A Different Game
by Charlene Edwards
Summary: Bruce Wayne has been murdered ... and the GCPD's prime suspects are Dick Grayson and Tim Drake.
1. Default Chapter

Thanks go out to Noel, Kim and Tammy for beta'ing this story. Hope you all enjoy. Charlene  
  
A Different Game: Part 1a:  
  
  
  
A pounding sound resonated through the apartment on Parkthorne Avenue in Bludhaven. The sound caused Dick Grayson to stir in his bed. Groggily, he sat up and stared at his alarm clock which read noon. Who would be pounding on his door at noon on a Saturday? Didn't people appreciate sleep? Dick grabbed a pair of jeans and hopped into them as he made his way from his bedroom to his front door.  
  
Dick eyed Tim Drake as he walked past the empty pizza boxes and video tapes littering the floor from the previous night. Dick had managed to spring Tim from Brentwood for the weekend. They were having quality time -- Bat style -- stopping a little crime and chilling with food and movies afterwards. Tim was just sitting up on the sofa as Dick walked past him, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Dick smiled at his "younger brother" as he headed toward the door.  
  
"Morning," Tim grumbled.  
  
"Afternoon," Dick replied with a chuckle as he opened the door. His face didn't betray his confusion when he saw three uniformed Bludhaven Police Officers and two plain clothed men Dick assumed were detectives. His stomach knotted, had something happened to his partner?  
  
"Richard Grayson?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Bludhaven police," one of the plain clothed detectives said as he showed Dick his badge.  
  
"So am I," Dick replied. "What's this about?"  
  
"This is Detective Jacobs, GCPD. We have a search warrant for your apartment."  
  
"For what? Let me see," Dick said taking the warrant from the first detective as the two detectives and BPD officers pushed past him into the apartment. Tim sat on the sofa, one leg up under him, dressed only in a T- shirt and a pair of shorts. Jacobs ordered Dick to sit beside Tim.  
  
"What's going on?" Tim whispered to Dick.  
  
"I don't know," Dick said as he watched the officers searching through his belongings, through his home.  
  
"Why's a Gotham cop with them?"  
  
"I. Don't. Know," Dick almost growled out. This had not been his ideal way to wake up on a Saturday. He looked back at the search warrant in his hands -- it was a general warrant -- didn't have any specifics of what they were looking for. And, more importantly why they were looking for it, whatever IT was they were looking for, in his apartment. The affidavit wasn't attached - just an order holding the affidavit under seal.  
  
"Detective," a uniformed officer called from Dick's bedroom. Dick and Tim turned on the sofa and watched as the officer emerged with evidence bags filled with their clothes from the night before and approached Detective Jacobs. After a few words passed between the officers, words that Dick and Tim could not hear, the uniformed officer left the apartment with the evidence bag.  
  
Dick stood, "What's this all about?"  
  
"Why don't you two get dressed while we finish up out here." Detective Jacobs stretched his arm toward Dick's bedroom door. "Officer, why don't you stay in there with them."  
  
"Now wait a damn minute," Dick said angrily.  
  
"Get dressed, Grayson." Jacobs barked.  
  
Glaring at Jacobs, Dick placed his hand on Tim's shoulder, gently moving the boy toward the bedroom. They walked past the officer who then turned and followed them into the room.  
  
As he pulled a pair of jeans on, Tim whispered, "What do you think is going on Dick? What are they looking for? Why did they have our clothes in the evidence bag?"  
  
"Tim, I really don't know. I wish I did. It doesn't make any sense to me. If they're looking into... you know... why take our clothes from last night?" Dick said as he pulled a clean Gotham Knights T-shirt on.  
  
"You two, stop whispering," the officer said.  
  
"Look," Dick began angrily, "we'll talk to each other when and how we want. This is still my apartment. You have a search warrant, search. Watch even. But leave us alone. You don't tell us what to do."  
  
Dick and Tim walked out of the room when they had finished changing. The officer followed them shaking his head. Dick walked over to Detective Jacobs and in as calm a voice as he could muster asked, "Can you tell me what this is all about?"  
  
"Mr. Grayson, Bruce Wayne was murdered last night," Jacobs coldly stated.  
  
To be continued 


	2. A Different Game Part 1b

A Different Game: Part 1 b:  
  
"Mr. Grayson, Bruce Wayne was murdered last night," Jacobs coldly stated.  
  
Tim's eyes grew wide and he plopped down on the sofa. Dick simply stared at the Detective. His mouth open. His heart started beating rapidly in his chest, the pounding resonating in his ears. Finally, he found his voice, "What?"  
  
"Bruce Wayne was murdered in his home last night. But you knew that already, didn't you?"  
  
Dick eyed the Detective as if he had two heads. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
Tim stood up and walked behind Dick. Dick's growing anger was obvious. Tim felt nervous. Things were terribly wrong. He knew that. As Robin he was trained to deal with terrible situations, but, at the moment, the world felt off kilter for him and Tim wasn't sure what to do. It was this uncertainty that drew him closer to Dick. They were saying Bruce was dead. They were wrong. They didn't know Bruce.  
  
A uniformed officer walked over to the detective from Dick's kitchen, another evidence bag in hand. Jacobs looked at the object in the bag. It was a bloody piece of white cloth with embroidered letters "BTW". Detective Jacobs had seen enough. He looked Dick squarely in the eyes. "Richard Grayson," then looking down at Tim, "Timothy Drake, you're both under arrest for the murder of Bruce Wayne." As he said this, the uniformed officers approached them, pulling their handcuffs from their belts.  
  
"Dick?"  
  
Dick's left arm instinctively went protectively in front of Tim while his right hand was outstretched in front of him. "Wait!"  
  
"Take them," Jacobs said.  
  
"Dick!" Tim said, panic beginning to creep into his voice. Dick noticed how very much Tim sounded his age right now.  
  
"Wait! Please, a minute," Dick said, as he continued maneuvering around the room, always keeping himself between Tim and the officers.  
  
"A minute," Jacobs relented.  
  
Dick turned to face Tim. Tim's face was pale. He looked imploringly at Dick. Dick then placed his hands on the young boy's shoulders.  
  
"Bruce can't be dead. He can't be," Tim started saying the same phrase over and over.  
  
"I know."  
  
"And why would they think we'd kill Bruce?"  
  
"I don't know. But Tim, everything will be all right. Just breath deeply, everything WILL be all right. You trust me?"  
  
Tim nodded his head: yes.  
  
"Bruce is not dead. This is a mistake. We've got to go with the cops for now, but once we get everything straightened out, they'll know they made a mistake and we'll come home. Okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, Dick, okay."  
  
"Just don't say anything to them without me or a lawyer present, understand?"  
  
"Okay Dick. I gotcha," Tim said, then he took a deep breath, braced himself for what was to come.  
  
Dick smiled slightly at Tim. This was all a mistake. Bruce was not dead. This was a mistake. It had to be. This couldn't be real. Dick took a deep breath as well, then together they turned to face the police officers.  
  
The uniformed officers took them by their arms, handcuffing them as the detectives started reading them their rights. Then they were led from Dick's apartment to the police cars waiting to take them to Gotham City. The uniformed officers holding the two prisoners stood waiting for the detectives to finish conversing.  
  
Jacobs spoke to the Bludhaven detective, "You can put them both in my car, I'll handle the transport to Gotham."  
  
"You sure you don't need any further assistance?"  
  
"No thanks." Jacobs replied.  
  
Bridget Clancy was walking up the street, medical texts in hand. Her eyes grew large when she saw Dick Grayson standing handcuffed before their apartment building. What was happening?  
  
"Dick? What's going on?" she said running up to him.  
  
"Clancy, whatever you hear, we did NOT do it," Dick responded. His blue eyes looked imploringly at her.  
  
"Put them in the car," Jacobs ordered, then, walking past Clancy, "I wouldn't listen to them, ma'am."  
  
Clancy stood there on the street and watched the police cars pull away from the curb and drive away.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Tim looked to Dick as they sat, handcuffed, in the back seat of Detective Jacobs unmarked car, then looked straight ahead into the wire mesh separating the front and back seats of the car. Separating the detective from his prisoners. Tim sighed. His head was spinning. He had been trained for any situation ... any situation but this one. He didn't know what to do.  
  
Dick turned toward Tim with worry in his eyes. He was sure Bruce was not dead, but why did the Gotham City Police Department think he was? And why did they think he and Tim were responsible? Arrested for Bruce's murder. This was insane. His first priority was Tim, he had to take care of Tim.  
  
Tim turned back toward Dick, their eyes meeting. Tim tried to smile, but found he couldn't.  
  
"I know how your feel," Dick said softly, "but it'll be okay."  
  
"I just don't understand Dick?"  
  
Dick cut his eyes toward the detective who drove the car. He could see his eyes watching them through the rear-view mirror. With his head, he nodded to Tim, indicating that Jacobs was listening.  
  
Tim felt a stinging in his eyes. God, how could his own body betray him like this? He quickly closed his eyes and threw his head backwards against the car's back seat.  
  
Dick watched Tim. He wished he could comfort him. With his hands cuffed behind him, he couldn't touch Tim, and with Jacobs listening to them, he couldn't talk to him. This situation was insane.  
  
"Everything will be all right Tim," Dick said, trying to comfort his "little brother" without really saying anything that Jacobs could hear.  
  
"Don't believe him kid," Jacobs interjected, "listening to him is what's got you where you are today."  
  
Dick glared at Jacobs through the wire mesh. It was a very good thing for the detective that Dick was currently handcuffed.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Tim asked angrily.  
  
"Tim," Dick began.  
  
"We know he talked you into helping him kill Wayne. You didn't have a motive other than helping Grayson. Right?"  
  
"You're crazy," Tim shouted.  
  
"Confession's good for the soul, son," Jacobs replied, "and it might help us to go easier on you."  
  
"Leave him alone," Dick growled.  
  
"He brought you into this mess kid. Don't let him talk you into staying in it. Turn on Grayson, we'll go easier on you."  
  
Dick reached up and kicked the back of Jacobs's seat. Hard. The sound of Jacobs laughter echoed in his head, only infuriating Dick further.  
  
"I don't wanna talk to you," Tim replied. "I'm not going to talk to you, not now or ever."  
  
"Whatever. We've got enough on you to take you both down."  
  
"Don't worry about him Tim. He's full of shit. He's got nothing on us because we haven't done anything."  
  
"I know," Tim said softly as he fidgeted in his seat.  
  
"You okay?" Dick asked.  
  
"Yeah. Handcuff's are tight."  
  
"I know they are. I'm sorry."  
  
"He can't be dead."  
  
"I know," Dick whispered.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
As Detective Jacobs's car approached Gotham City Police Headquarters, Dick saw the gathered multitude of reporters.  
  
"Just great," he said to himself. "Jacobs, what's with all the press?"  
  
"Don't worry Grayson, they're not here about you. Yet. Commissioner Aiken's calling a press conference. He's going to announce that Wayne was murdered and that suspects are in custody. He's not going to name you two. Not now."  
  
Tim closed his eyes and leaned over so that his head touched Dick's arm. Dick wished he could comfort the boy. He watched as the car moved into the prisoner loading area, past the steel mesh wire fencing and into the building. Jacobs stopped the car, getting out and opening the rear doors.  
  
"Get out," he said roughly. As they exited the car, he grabbed them each by an arm and pushed them toward the door labeled prisoner entrance. Dick and Tim were processed into the system: photographed for mug shots, fingerprinted, strip searched and dressed in prisoner orange jumpsuits. They went through the motions until it was time for their phone call. They were lead to a small room with a phone.  
  
"You've each got ten minutes," a guard said as he handcuffed their left hands to the base of the phone cubical.  
  
"Who do I call?" Dick whispered to himself. Bruce was his logical choice, but they claimed Bruce was dead. Babs? But she was out of town, in Chicago with her father. Dick had talked her into taking the weekend off, to spending some quality time with her Dad. He had told her nothing would go wrong. How wrong he had been. "I could try her cell phone," he said aloud as he dialed the number.  
  
"Hello," he heard her voice, so cheerful and happy, come over the line.  
  
"Babs, it's me."  
  
"Hey Boy Wonder, what can I do for you?" Babs asked.  
  
"I'm in trouble."  
  
Her mood changed as she heard the tone of his voice, "What's wrong? What do you need?"  
  
"I'm...I'm in jail. We've been arrested." His words were greeted with silence. "Babs?"  
  
"Arrested? Oh my God. For what? Do they know...? We? We who?"  
  
"No, not that," he said with a sigh, "We: me and Tim. They've arrested us for murder."  
  
"Murder?" Babs said quietly. "Have you called Bruce? Dick, you've got to call Bruce."  
  
"They say Bruce is dead. That's who we're suppose to have murdered."  
  
"What! Bruce is ... I don't believe it," Babs felt her head pounding. With her free hand, she removed her glasses and rubbed her nose. She had to think. "Where are you two?"  
  
"Gotham Central lock-up."  
  
"I'll call the Wayne lawyers, don't worry, we'll take care of everything. How's Tim?"  
  
Dick looked at Tim who tried to smile, "He's okay, under the circumstances."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"The same. Babs, Bruce can't be dead. He is not dead. I won't believe it, I can't."  
  
"I know. Dick, I'll try to find Alfred."  
  
"Thanks. Hey, I ... I gotta go. My time's about up. Tim's got to use the phone now."  
  
"Dick, I," she hesitated. She had held him off for so long, had asked for time, but her feelings were always there. He needed to know, he needed to know now, "I love you."  
  
He closed his eyes at the words he had longed to hear, "Yeah. You too, Babs. Bye." He sighed again and he hung up the phone. Then he looked to Tim, "You're turn kiddo. Are you going to call your dad?"  
  
Tim looked at Dick. He was hesitant in his reply, then he said, "Yeah. Without Bruce, who else am I gonna call? Besides, he's got to know. He's going to know. It'll be better if he first hears it from me."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Tim picked up the telephone receiver. Hesitating just a moment, he dialed the number. His mind still reeling from the events, he wondered how to tell his father. Thankfully, another voice answered the phone, giving Tim a few extra moments to sum up the courage he needed. "Dana, it's Tim, I need Dad."  
  
"Sure honey," Dana replied, "is anything wrong?"  
  
"Yeah. I need Dad, Dana."  
  
At the strain in his voice, Dana motioned to her husband to quickly come to the phone. Silently, she mouthed to him that it was Tim on the phone. Jack Drake came onto the line, "Tim, what's wrong?"  
  
"Dad, I," Tim started and he caught his voice cracking just a bit, "I'm in trouble. Big trouble. I...I...I'm in jail."  
  
"What! You're in jail! For what? Tim, what have you done now?" Jack Drake responded, anger in his voice. His son had tried his patience these last few years, running away for months on end, going out of the country, re-entering Gotham when the federal government had declared it a No Man's Land. Now he'd been arrested! Jack had hoped sending Tim to Brentwood would stop him from going wild and from getting into trouble. Stop him from becoming one of those troubled teens always into some problem or another. Jack Drake felt like a failure. He hadn't stopped Tim at all.  
  
"No. Dad. Dad, please don't be mad. I haven't done anything. It's a mistake. Dad, please. You gotta come help me."  
  
"Tim, where are you and what have you been arrested for?"  
  
"I'm at Gotham police headquarters right now They brought us in from Bludhaven."  
  
"Us? Bludhaven?" Jack Drake shook his head as he continued to listen to his sixteen year old son. Tim was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he got home.  
  
"We, Dick and me, we've been charged with...with..." Tim found himself choking on the word. He looked to Dick for support. Dick laid his free hand on Tim's shoulder. "Murder. They charged us with murder. But we didn't kill Bruce. Dick and I wouldn't do that Dad. Dad, I want to come home."  
  
Jack Drake felt his legs grow weak under him. Steadying himself against the wall, he slowly asked Tim, "Did you say you've been charged with murder?"  
  
"Yes," Tim weakly acknowledged to his father.  
  
"Dick?" Jack Drake asked, "Dick Grayson? Wait a minute, you said Bruce. Do you mean Bruce Wayne?"  
  
"Yes. They think we killed Bruce. But we didn't. He's Dick's father. And you know how I feel about Bruce," Tim said. In reality, he knew his father really did not know exactly how Tim felt about Bruce, but he did know that Tim idolized Bruce.  
  
"Where's Grayson?" Jack asked. He felt his anger rising moment by moment. What the hell was a 24 year old doing with a 16 year old? And why was Tim with Dick in Bludhaven rather than at Brentwood where he belonged? Where he should have been. Where he would not have gotten into this trouble had he been there.  
  
"He's right here. They're letting us make our one phone call."  
  
"Tim, listen to me. This is important. You have a habit of NOT listening to me. But this time, please, do what I tell you to. Do not say anything to anyone until I get there. I'll call our lawyer and we'll come see you."  
  
Tim closed his eyes in regret. He hated hurting his father. Jack Drake may not have been the perfect father, but Tim knew that his dad loved him. "I won't say anything Dad. Dick told me the same thing. He's here. He's taking care of me." Tim meant for these words to comfort his father.  
  
They did not.  
  
"Put him on the phone," Jack responded coldly.  
  
Tim's eyebrow shot up in a quizzical look, then he stretched out the phone to Dick, "He wants to talk to you, can you?"  
  
Dick turned and saw the guards weren't watching, and he took the phone. "Mr. Drake?"  
  
"You little sonovabitch! Look at what you've dragged my boy into!"  
  
"Whoa, Mr. Drake, I haven't dragged Tim into anything. Look, this is all a mistake. You heard Tim, we DIDN'T do anything."  
  
"If anything happens to my boy, Grayson..."  
  
"Look, I'm taking care of him, and I'm going to continue to. You just need to get a lawyer and get him bail so he can go home. Here's Tim, his time's almost up."  
  
"I'm sorry Dad, I really am. But we didn't do this. But I'm sorry, for, well, a lot of things. Just come get me soon please, I want to go home.."  
  
"I'm on my way son," Jack said as he tried to calm his voice. He could hear the fear in Tim's voice. The fear he could tell Tim desperately wanted to hide from him.  
  
Dick also heard the fear in Tim's voice. He closed his eyes as he silently prayed to wake up from this nightmare.  
  
The guards came into the room, removing the handcuffs, as they saw the phone calls were finished. As Dick and Tim were led from the room, two gray-clad officers approached Detective Jacobs. Dick recognized their uniforms. His eyes widened at the realization. He hadn't even thought of this. They were obviously here for Tim.  
  
"Detective Jacobs," asked one of the guards, "we're from JDC. You have a prisoner for us?"  
  
"Tim Drake, right here," Jacobs said as he pointed at Tim.  
  
"Drake, you come with us," the guard stated.  
  
"Wha...what?" Tim looked at Dick, his eyes wide. He wanted to stay with Dick. Well, he really wanted to go home, but while he was here, the only comfort he had was being with his "older brother". He looked at Dick, whose ashen face and closed eyes, only heightened Tim's panic. "What's going on?"  
  
"Tim, you're going to have to go with them. You can't stay with me," Dick said calmly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because of your age."  
  
"But, but...that means we aren't going to be able to stay together."  
  
"Yeah. They're going to send you to JDC."  
  
"That's where you were," Tim said.  
  
Detective Jacobs ears perked up at this. Grayson had been in Juvenile Detention. That's something worth investigating further.  
  
"Yeah," Dick responded. "Look, it's not the best in the world, but it's better than jail."  
  
"It is jail! Kid jail. Same thing."  
  
"Not exactly," Dick said in a calm voice. "Look, your dad'll be here soon. Don't worry about anything." As Dick finished saying the words, Gotham's newest prosecutor Peter Reynolds walked into the room. Dick recognized him from his election campaign. Bruce had been a big supporter of Reynolds. Oh God, Dick thought, Bruce HAD BEEN a big supporter of Reynolds.  
  
"Jacobs," Reynolds said, "Is this Drake?" he asked pointing to Tim.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Dick watched as Reynolds handed some white sheets of paper to Jacobs, "Serve him with these before he goes to JDC."  
  
Jacobs took the papers and promptly handed them to Tim. Tim looked down at the documents without understanding what he read.  
  
"What is it Tim?" Dick asked. He tried to approach, but the guards blocked his way.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What's it say at the very top?" Dick asked. He was no lawyer, but he had learned a few things at the police academy.  
  
"A motion to transfer to Superior Court and to treat Juvenile as an adult," Tim said reading the top of the first page and then moving to the second page he continued, "Motion for Rule 24 Conference."  
  
Dick felt like he had been hit in the gut. He turned to Reynolds, "Rule 24 conference. For him? He's just a kid! He's only sixteen years old!"  
  
"If he can commit murder with you Grayson, he can be treated just like you," Reynolds replied walking over to Dick. "So you know what a Rule 24 conference is. Good, because we've scheduled yours for Monday."  
  
"We haven't done anything. Why are you doing this to --"  
  
"To you? Is that what you're going to ask? Bruce Wayne was a friend of mine," Reynolds replied angrily. "He was a good guy who deserved better than this. He did not deserve to have the little street urchin he adopted murder him for his money."  
  
Dick could see Reynolds was truly upset. He could tell he genuinely liked Bruce. That kept Dick from being angry with the man. If they could just see they were making a mistake about Tim and him. Dick's head was spinning. So much was happening so fast. Too fast.  
  
"Dick, what's this mean?"  
  
Dick turned and looked into Tim's innocent young eyes. God, how did he tell him this? But he had to, he couldn't let him find out from someone else. "Tim, if they win the first motion you'll be tried with me rather than in juvenile court and you'll be transferred back here to the adult jail, if you're not already out on bond," Dick said knowing the likelihood of that happening now was slim to none. "Rule 24 means the State's going to ask the Court to make our cases death penalty cases."  
  
Tim listened to Dick. But he knew he couldn't be hearing him right, "Death penalty cases? Do you mean that they'd be ..."  
  
"Asking for the death penalty as punishment." Dick finished Tim's sentence.  
  
"No," Tim said weakly as the realization of this situation really hit him. He started for Dick, but the guards grabbed him. Dick tore his arm away from the guard holding him and went to Tim, pushing the guards out of his way. Tim clutched to Dick as he whispered, "No. Dick, this is crazy. We've got to get out of here."  
  
  
  
To be continued 


	3. A Different Game Part 1c

A Different Game Part 1 c  
  
  
  
Tim Drake sat behind a glass partition in Gotham's JDC. He watched as his father walked down a row of similar cubicles holding other juveniles and their visitors. Tim weakly smiled at his father as Jack Drake sat down.  
  
"Tim?"  
  
"Hi Dad," Tim said, trying desperately not to sound upset.  
  
"I've got our lawyer trying to find out exactly what's going on, " Jack replied.  
  
Tim looked at his father, then down to the gray metal table beneath him. Without looking back at his father, he responded, "They want to kill us."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They want to kill us. Dick and me. They're going to ask a judge on Monday."  
  
"Tim, are you saying that they're going to try you capitally?"  
  
"If that means they're asking for the death penalty, yeah. Dad, I want to go home," Tim implored as he looked up at his father.  
  
Jack Drake felt his chest tighten as he watched his son's pleading eyes. Tim was only sixteen. He was a child. How could the state want to kill a child? Home. Bail. If this was the State's plan, they wouldn't give him bail. "Tim, son, I don't think that'll be possible right now."  
  
"Why? Dad, I promise. I'll do whatever you tell me. Please don't be mad at me. Please take me home with you."  
  
"Tim, I am not mad with you. Disappointed, but not mad."  
  
"Dad," Tim started with a sigh.  
  
"No, listen to me. You're my child, I don't care what you've done. I'd take you home if I could. But, if the state's proceeding capitally, they won't give you a bond."  
  
"So I'll have to stay here?"  
  
"For now."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick Grayson lay on his bunk. For now, he was in a cell alone. He didn't know how long that luxury would last. He thought about everything that had happened. The day had moved at a fast pace and yet, at the same time, seemed to happen in slow motion. They said Bruce was dead. But he knew he wasn't. If Bruce were really dead, he'd know. He'd feel it. Wouldn't he? It had only been a few short months since Bruce had officially made him his son, legitimizing what they had known in their hearts for years. He couldn't be dead. They still had so much to do, to say, to live.  
  
"Stop thinking emotionally Grayson, think rationally. Think the way you've been taught. Okay, they think Bruce is dead. They're wrong, but let's go with the thought. Why do they think Tim and I are suspects? Naturally, you always try to rule out family first. I'm Bruce's only legal family so I'm suspect number one. But Jacobs didn't try to rule me out. He's been operating like he knows I'm guilty. Why would he think that?"  
  
Dick thought back to his apartment. The clothes. The clothes have blood on them. Bruce's blood. "Just great." But they couldn't know it's Bruce's blood yet. They would be able to figure it out, but they wouldn't know yet. So why arrest them now? "He knew Tim's name," Dick said aloud as he sat up on his bunk. "He knew who Tim was and he expected him to be at my apartment. How?"  
  
Fingerprints? No. Dick had prints on file, but Tim didn't. How did they know about Tim? How was Tim? How was he handling being in JDC? Dick thought back, so many years ago. Twelve years ago, he sat alone in a cell in JDC. If it hadn't been for Bruce, who knows how long that scared little gypsy boy would have stayed there. What would Dick have been if not for Bruce?  
  
Dick felt a tear fall from his eye, "Bruce," he whispered, "where are you now?"  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara and her father arrived in Gotham City on their non-stop flight from Chicago. Alfred Pennyworth greeted them in the airport.  
  
"How's Dick?" Barbara asked as she wheeled herself over to the older gentleman.  
  
"I'm afraid they will not allow me to see him, Miss Barbara."  
  
"Because Saturday's not visiting hours," Jim chimed in. "I may not be commissioner anymore, but I do still have connections. I'll see what I can do to get the two of you in to see him tonight. If not, I know I can get you in tomorrow."  
  
"Thanks Daddy," Barbara said with a weak smile. Then turning back to Alfred, she took the old man's hand, "Any news?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. Neither Doctor Thompkins nor myself have been allowed into the Manor. The police have sealed it off while they do their investigation."  
  
"Who identified the body?" Jim asked as the three of them moved through the airport.  
  
"The coroner contacted Doctor Thompkins for a DNA sample of Master Bruce's. The tests won't be back until Monday morning. Master Dick's arraignment is Monday afternoon."  
  
"Why DNA?" Gordon asked, although he had a sickening feeling he already knew the answer to the question.  
  
"The body is supposedly beyond human recognition. It was burned."  
  
"I just know it's not Bruce," Barbara stated. "When the DNA comes back that it's not Bruce they'll let Dick and Tim go. Then we can all get to the bottom of this. I've contacted Dinah, Cassie and Jean-Paul, they should have already started a search for Bruce."  
  
Alfred stopped in his tracks at Barbara's words. Both Gordon's had continued moving and then stopped when they noticed Alfred was no longer beside them. Turning around they found him stopped where he was. Jim Gordon approached him, "What's wrong?"  
  
Alfred looked Jim squarely in the eye, "You know."  
  
"I've known for years," Jim responded as he placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Now lets see what we can do to save the men and boy who've saved this city so many times over the years. What about the Wayne lawyers, have they been able to see Dick?"  
  
"I'm afraid the Wayne lawyers will not be assisting Master Dick."  
  
"What? Why not?" Barbara yelled. "I called and left a very clear message ..."  
  
"The prosecuting attorney has placed an injunction on all the Wayne holdings preventing Master Dick from having any type of access whatsoever to the estate. Something called a slayer statute."  
  
Barbara crinkled her nose at this. She knew about this. Should have known they would use it in this situation. But Barbara wasn't exactly thinking very clearly now. "That's okay, Dick can afford good representation. I have his power of attorney. He gave it to me, in case something happened where I'd need it. Lets go back to my place, I'll start researching who to hire. Alfred, why don't you call Leslie and have her meet us there. I...I don't think any of us should be alone."  
  
"I quite agree Miss Barbara," Alfred replied, then with a tired look in his eyes continued, "but I'm afraid all of my charges are alone right now."  
  
Barbara took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  
  
To be continued ... 


	4. A Different Game: Part 1d

A Different Game: Part 1d  
  
  
  
Jim Gordon had managed to call in a few favors so that he, Barbara, Alfred, and Leslie could visit with Dick on Sunday in an attorney conference room. They were sitting in the small room waiting for Dick to be brought in. As the door at the back of the room opened, they saw him walk in wearing an orange jail jumpsuit. His hair was rumpled and he was unshaven. Barbara couldn't help but notice the lack of sparkle in is eyes.  
  
"Hey," he said as he was led to the table by a guard. The guard took him by the shoulders and roughly pushed him down in the chair. The guard handcuffed Dick's left hand to the table securely. As soon as the guard left, Barbara moved over to hug him. Alfred and Leslie followed doing the same. "Have you found Bruce yet?"  
  
"No, Master Dick. No word as of yet."  
  
"He'll call if he can," Leslie added.  
  
"Has it been on the news?" Dick asked.  
  
"Bruce's murder, yes," Barbara replied as her hand stroked his arm. "All over the news. They just haven't released the names of the 'suspects in custody' yet. It's going to be a media circus."  
  
"Has anyone seen Tim?"  
  
"No. JDC will only allow family. His father saw him yesterday."  
  
"Good. Poor kid's scared. He doesn't like to show it, but he is. This is a totally different game than the one we know how to play."  
  
"Yeah, I know. And you don't have to be cryptic, Dad knows everything." Barbara said as her hands stroked his right arm in an effort to comfort him.  
  
Dick looked up at Jim Gordon, "Good. I still have no clue why they arrested us. They have to have some reason! Being Bruce's son is enough to make me a suspect, I know, but not enough alone for them to arrest me. Much less arrest Tim."  
  
"Dick, hopefully this whole nightmare will be over in the morning when the DNA sample comes back negative," Leslie said.  
  
His jaw dropped and he stared at Leslie for a few seconds before slowly asking, "DNA?"  
  
"They're trying to identify the body," Leslie said softly. "That's the only way."  
  
"Oh great," he sighed as he ran his free hand through his hair. "Add that to the fact the state wants to proceed capitally against me and Tim makes this one great weekend. This is a nightmare," Dick stated softly as he shook his head.  
  
"Capitally?" Barbara repeated. She couldn't believe what he had just said. It couldn't be true! "They want to..."  
  
"Yep," Dick said flatly.  
  
"But they can't," she continued, her voice shaking.  
  
"They can," Dick said resigned. "That's one thing I've learned in the last twenty-four hours: the state can do whatever they want."  
  
"Oh my God! Dick, how much worse can this situation get?" she asked as tears filled her eyes.  
  
Jim Gordon moved behind his daughter, placing a supportive and comforting hand on her shoulder. Alfred and Leslie sat across the wooden table from Dick. Leslie slowly moved her hand into Alfred's. Dick looked over at them. He saw the worry on their faces. His heart ached for them. The world was saying the man they had raised as their son was dead, and the two people they considered their grandchildren were accused of the crime. No one should have to go through a situation like this, least of all Alfred and Leslie.  
  
Anger grew inside him as he realized how these accusations were hurting his family. Alfred and Leslie shouldn't have to go through this. Barbara shouldn't have to go through this. Tim certainly shouldn't have to stay in that hell hole called juvenile detention! Tim wasn't a delinquent; he was Robin, one of the good guys. He didn't belong in jail. Neither of them belonged in jail. Bruce wasn't dead! But keeping them locked in here was keeping them from finding Bruce and finding out exactly what was going on. Yet here he sat, handcuffed to the table like a chained dog.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick was brought into Gotham's Superior Courtroom Monday afternoon. As he entered the room, he saw Tim Drake, wearing a matching orange jumpsuit, sitting at the Defendant's table. The guards moved Dick to the same table indicating for Dick to take a seat beside Tim.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Dick asked.  
  
"Juvenile judge transferred me here this morning. I guess I get to go back to jail with you when we leave."  
  
"We're going to get to go home, Tim. Leslie said the DNA tests should be back today and that'll prove Bruce isn't dead."  
  
"I hope so Dick."  
  
Their lawyers approached and took seats on each side of the boys, having Dick and Tim in the middle. Then the bailiff cried out for everyone to stand as the judge entered the courtroom.  
  
"What's this case about?" Judge Vargas asked Peter Reynolds.  
  
"State of Gotham versus Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake. Charges are aggravated assault, conspiracy to commit aggravated assault, felony murder, conspiracy to commit felony murder, first degree premeditated murder, and conspiracy to commit first degree premeditated murder. The state's asking for a Rule 24 conference."  
  
"How old's Drake?"  
  
"Sixteen your honor, but the juvenile judge transferred venue this morning."  
  
"All right, proceed," Judge Vargas said."This is the Bruce Wayne case?"  
  
"Yes your honor."  
  
"Just give me an overview of the evidence you have so far."  
  
"Bruce Wayne was murdered in his Gotham home," Reynolds began. "his body was burned beyond physical recognition, but the DNA results which my office received less than thirty minutes ago conclusively confirm that the body found was indeed Bruce Wayne's."  
  
Dick felt as if he had had all of the wind knocked out of him. All the color had drained from his face and he looked as if he was about to be sick. Tim took Dick's hand in his as Reynolds's continued.  
  
"Blood found on clothing taken from the defendant's apartment, as well as on a shirt sleeve found in the kitchen garbage pail in Defendant Grayson's apartment has been confirmed by the same DNA test results to be that of Bruce Wayne. Our evidence will show that the two defendants were the last people to come to and leave Wayne Manor, and lastly, but certainly not least, your honor, we have a videotape of the two defendants at the crime scene shortly after the murder."  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other. He had a what? Dick turned to his lawyer, "He can't have anything like that!"  
  
Dick's attorney stood up, "Your honor, I object."  
  
"I can play the tape if the Court wishes."  
  
"That's a good idea Mr. Reynolds."  
  
Peter Reynolds walked from his counsel table, a videocassette in hand, to the VCR and he injected the tape into the player.  
  
The screen showed a color image of Wayne Manor's garage. A door opened and images of Dick and Tim, blood clearly evident on their clothes, emerged on the screen. Reynolds paused the tape and pointed to the T-shirts they were wearing. "As you can see in this tape, Your Honor, these are the clothes that were seized with a search warrant at Mr. Grayson's apartment which the DNA tests were conducted on." He then pushed play and turned up the volume so their conversation could be heard throughout the courtroom.  
  
The videotape showed Dick and Tim walking through the garage toward Dick's car. With Bruce's blood on their clothes, they were laughing and talking about their plans for the weekend, about how they were going to "hit all of Bludhaven's bad spots". They appeared so callous, so uncaring. So guilty.  
  
Dick slowly closed his eyes to block out the image before him. It looked bad. Really bad. They didn't understand, couldn't understand. It was out of context. They'd never understand and their secret would never allow them to fully explain. Opening his eyes, he turned to Tim. The boy was just staring forward shaking his head. Turning to his attorney. Dick managed to whisper, "It's not what it seems, it's ... it's, well... I can explain this ..."  
  
"Not now."  
  
"But --"  
  
"Not now! Dick, this is not good. I know you understand that. We'll talk more after the hearing."  
  
Judge Vargas looked up. "I've heard enough. The state's motion to proceed capitally is allowed."  
  
The two defense attorneys jumped up, objecting to the judge's ruling and inquiring about bail for their clients.  
  
Judge Vargas shook her head. "Gentlemen, this is now a capital case. Both of these young men have quite a substantial fortune at their disposal, even without being able to access Mr. Wayne's estate. If released on bail, they could easily disappear. And why wouldn't they, given what they have to lose? Bail is denied. The defendants are remanded to the custody of Gotham City pending trial."  
  
Tim turned behind him. He caught his father's eyes. He read Jack's disappointment in him, his fear of Tim's situation. But what was worse, Tim felt his father believed he was guilty. "Dad ..." Tim said, desperation in his voice. He couldn't finish his sentence as the bailiff's took him and Dick by the arm, pulling them toward the prisoner door.  
  
Jack Drake sat silently in the courtroom as he watched his son being led away by the guards. He couldn't believe what he had seen on the video. Yet, there it was, in living color, before his eyes. His little boy covered in blood. His little boy covered in Bruce Wayne's blood and laughing about what fun he was going to have. What had happened to Tim? What had he done wrong? What could he do now? Jack looked up when he heard Peter Reynolds ask Tim's attorney to stay and talk with him. Why did he want to talk to Tim's attorney and not Dick's?  
  
Barbara Gordon stared straight ahead. It was not what it seemed, but how could they ever explain. A single tear escaped her eyes as she turned to Alfred. The dignified old man sat erect on the hard courtroom bench. His eyes followed Dick. His hands shaking ever so slightly. Barbara reached for his hands, taking them in her own and squeezing them. But he only turned to face her once Dick was no longer in the room.  
  
"It'll be all right Alfred, we'll get to the bottom of this."  
  
"I fear, Miss Barbara, nothing will ever be all right again."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick and Tim sat, handcuffed, in a conference room as they waited for their attorneys to come in. Dick laid with his head in his hands. The hearing had gone horrible. Everything that could have gone wrong had. And they said Bruce was dead. That they had proof that Bruce was really dead. Dick felt the weight of that statement bear down on him. Could it really be true? Was Bruce really dead? Dick had always felt that the world would stop if Bruce died. Now, they said he was dead -- but the world was continuing.  
  
Maybe it was just Dick's world that had ended. Nothing was right anymore. Dick looked over at Tim. The boy looked so young and so lost. Looking back at the handcuffs, he simply shook his head. If the situation wasn't so serious, he laugh. Dick had envisioned the different ways that their crusade against crime could end -- but this -- Bruce dead and he and Tim in jail for killing him -- had never been one of the ways. That damn videotape. They could never explain that! God, they looked so guilty. Now he understood Jacobs and Reynolds. Now he knew why they were so sure of their case.  
  
Dick's attorney, Jon Walters, entered the room. Placing his briefcase on the table, he sat down with a sigh.  
  
"Where's Mr. Avery?" Tim asked.  
  
Walters looked at the boy and smiled. "He's coming." Then he looked at Dick, "I really think you and I should talk alone."  
  
"Alone? What do you mean?" Dick asked, looking from Walters to a worried Tim.  
  
"We need to have a little attorney/client talk."  
  
"We can do that here. Tim and I are in this together. We need to work on this together."  
  
Wilson Avery entered the conference room with Jack Drake just as Dick was finishing his sentence. "What's going on Jon?"  
  
"Dick thinks we all need to stay together."  
  
Avery looked at Walters, then toward Tim, "I don't agree. Tim, your father and I need to speak to you in private."  
  
"No," Tim said defiantly. "Something's going on here and I don't like it."  
  
"Neither do I," Dick responded. "Why do you want to separate us?"  
  
"You are co-defendants," Jon Walters began, "the state is going to want to try you together. It is possible that in this case, you two will have antagonistic defenses."  
  
"Antagonistic? What do you mean?" Tim asked looking around at the adults in the room. "Whatever you have to say to me, you say in front of Dick." Tim stood up from the table and walked toward the corner of the room. Dick watched him, a look of concern on his face.  
  
Jack Drake walked over to his son, taking Tim by the shoulders. "Son, please, we're only trying to look after your best interests. You are in serious trouble Tim. We are trying to save your life, don't you understand?"  
  
Tim silently turned from his father toward the wall, he didn't want anyone to see the tears in his eyes. It was just too much -- everything that had happened -- and it was just beginning. God he wanted to go home. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. "I know, but I'm staying here."  
  
Dick looked to the two attorneys, "I need to explain that tape."  
  
Wilson Avery walked around the table, ignoring Dick's words, "I spoke with Peter Reynolds. He's willing to offer you a plea."  
  
"Plea?" Tim questioned, still looking at the wall.  
  
Dick looked at his attorney, his eyebrows raised in a question. Jon Walters whispered to Dick, "I was afraid of this."  
  
Avery continued, "The D.A.'ll let you plead to accessory to first degree murder with a twenty-five year sentence IF you testify against Grayson."  
  
Testify against Dick? Tim felt his entire body shake as he realized what they really meant. He whirled around to face his father and attorney, "Hell No! I. Will. Never. Testify. Against. Dick!" he growled in his very best imitation of The Voice. "We are innocent! We didn't kill Bruce! We'd never kill Bruce! God! How can my own father not know me," Tim said as he looked Jack Drake in the eye. "You think I'm guilty. You think I'm capable of murder. You have NO idea who I really am!"  
  
Jack looked his son in the eye. The evidence seemed overwhelming. But Tim seemed so adamant of his innocence, could he really be? He questioned his own son's innocence. Tim was right, he really didn't know him  
  
  
  
To be continued ... 


	5. A Different Game: Part 2a

A Different Game: Part 2a  
  
  
  
Clark sat alone in a conference room at The Daily Planet. He'd been transfixed by the news this weekend and had apprehensively waited for Monday's live broadcast from Gotham. He remembered when the story broke -- Bruce Wayne Murdered! He still couldn't believe it. Gotham's police were said to have suspects in custody but they hadn't released any details, any names.  
  
He had tried to contact Dick and was unsuccessfully. No one had heard from Dick. Clark had checked the boy's apartment, and asked the Titans, and the JLA, and with Oracle uncharacteristically offline, no one could find Dick.  
  
Clark was starting to worry. It was hard enough to believe that Bruce could really be dead, but Dick's absence was unnerving. Had something happened to him? If Bruce HAD been murdered, could the murderer have reached Dick? Or was Dick in stealth mode in Gotham -- waiting for his chance at Bruce killers? Would this drive Dick into the darkness he and Bruce always teetered on? Clark wanted to go to Gotham, but remembered how fiercely protective Bruce was of HIS city. He had stayed away out of a sense of loyalty to Bruce -- Bruce would want his own people handling this, and they were capable of doing so.  
  
Then the news had come that the GCPD had two suspects in custody. Perhaps the case was closed without the aid of Bruce's knights. The live news feeds started coming from Gotham. The media was having a field day. Sometimes, Clark was embarrassed at how members of his profession could act. But Lois was right when she said this story was hitting him too close to home. When Bruce had purchased the Planet a few months back, Clark had acted rather perturbed, but he really wasn't. He was actually glad to have Bruce on board -- even if just in a corporate capacity. He, at least, knew Bruce was someone he could trust. Trust, he almost chuckled at the thought. They had had their moments a while back - tensions had been strained, but they had gotten past that. Clark knew he trusted Bruce more than Bruce would ever trust him, but Bruce's paranoia was part of the package. Despite their differences, Clark considered Bruce his friend, his closest friend in the superhero community. He didn't want to accept that Bruce could really be gone.  
  
Standing, Clark walked from the table to the counter along the wall and poured a cup of coffee. The Planet's coffee had an infamous reputation, but with his "steel plated stomach" as Lois called it, he felt safe to have more than one cup. Clark turned and started walking back to his seat in front of the TV set when Metropolis's affiliate to Gotham's GCTV station interrupted the commentator's discussion of the Wayne Murder. Summer Gleason's face appeared on the screen standing in front of the Gotham City Courthouse. Clark sat on the edge of the table sipping his coffee waiting for the news report.  
  
"Startling new developments have just been revealed in the Bruce Wayne Murder investigation. Billionaire industrialist Bruce Wayne's adopted son Richard Grayson, and Wayne's former neighbor, sixteen year old Timothy Drake, have been charged with Wayne's brutal killing."  
  
Clark spew his coffee out on the conference room table. Summer Gleason's voice continued, unabated, as she reported the story to the nation.  
  
"Grayson and Drake were arraigned before Judge Maria Vargas. Gotham City District Attorney Peter Reynolds introduced damning evidence against the accused today. The prosecution presented a videotape which placed the two defendants at the scene of the crime in blood soaked clothes. After such strong evidence, Reynolds pushed to make the Wayne murder a capital case and just now Judge Vargas has allowed the motion.  
  
Before any more of the story could be broadcast, the TV set exploded. Clark pulled his now melted glasses off and stared at the remains of the frames.  
  
"Damn."  
  
Lois entered the room in a hurry, "Clark, what ...", she started to say, but cut herself off when she saw the sight before her. "Saw the news from Gotham, huh?"  
  
"I'm going."  
  
"I thought you said ---"  
  
"That was before I knew this. Dick didn't ... he wouldn't...they're crazy. I've got to go."  
  
"Well, just don't blow up the jail. Call me if you need anything. I love you."  
  
"You too. Cover for me with Perry. Tell him I need some time off. Family matters."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Mr. Walters, Mr. Avery." One of two guard entered the attorney- client conference room. "We've got to take the prisoners back to the jail now."  
  
Dick sighed as he turned toward the door. He sighed wearily... he knew this was only the beginning. He looked at Tim and Jack, the space between them. It made him angry, the way Jack was treating Tim. He sighed again as a wave of sadness hit him. At least Tim HAD his dad here. Dick shook his head. He couldn't think like that -- not now. He had to keep a clear head.  
  
Dick looked on as Jack closed the gap between himself and his son. Jack tentatively placed his hands on Tim's shoulders, then drew the boy closer to him -- into a hug. As Dick watched Tim's arms clutched at his father, he felt his own heart ache.  
  
"Tim," Jack softly started, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to protect you. I'm just scared that I can't."  
  
"I'm sorry too Dad," Tim replied, his voice shaking slightly.  
  
Dick felt like an outsider, an intruder, watching this moment between father and son. Dick turned away.  
  
"Mr. Walters, when do we go to court again?" Dick asked.  
  
"Can't say. Dick, you're going to have to be patient. It could be a long time before we have a trial date."  
  
Dick looked worried, "How long?"  
  
Tim had walked over to the conference table, his father following behind him, as they waited for Jon Walters to answer the question.  
  
Walters looked to Avery and sighed. "Boys, sometimes in cases like these, it takes six months to a year to get a court date."  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other. They were both shaking their heads. It was Dick who spoke, "And you mean we have to stay in jail all that time?"  
  
"I'm afraid so," Wilson Avery interjected.  
  
"Oh hell no!" Dick shouted, "We are NOT staying in jail that long!"  
  
The guards approached them, "You two have to come with us now, the van's about to leave." The guards took Dick and Tim by the arms and started handcuffing them.  
  
Dick looked at his attorney, "You've got to get us a trial date sooner than that! As soon as you can! We can't stay in here that long."  
  
The guards moved the boys from the room and toward the courthouse exit. Upon leaving the building, they were met with camera flashes and a multitude of shouted questions. They ignored the questions and tried to shield their faces from the cameras as they were led to the transport van. The cameras and reporters were stopped by the fence and couldn't get close to the van.  
  
Tim saw the other dozen or so prisoners waiting to load the van. He turned to Dick, an anxious look in his eyes. On his transfers to and from JDC, he had been alone.  
  
As the approached, Dick leaned to Tim and whispered, "Take a window seat, I'll be right beside you."  
  
"Load up," yelled a guard.  
  
Tim stood there, unmoving. Standing slightly behind Tim, Dick nudged the younger boy toward the van, "I'm right beside you."  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Jim Gordon walked through the door he had entered a dozen times. The decor had changed. His office was no longer his; it belonged to his successor Michael Akins.  
  
"Jim!" Akins said as he stood up from behind his desk and walked around to shake Gordon's hand. "What brings you back to your old stomping grounds?"  
  
"The Wayne case," Gordon said flatly as he shook Akins hand.  
  
Akins shook his head as he motioned for Jim to sit down, "That's a bad case. It's a shame too. Three lives ruined."  
  
Jim took a seat, the view was different from this side of his -- no Akins -- desk. "I don't think those boys are guilty."  
  
"The evidence is pretty clear, Jim. Jacobs has done a good job on this case. He's not left any holes."  
  
"That may be, Mike, but I know Dick Grayson. He's a good kid, always has been. You know he's a cop?"  
  
Akins let out a slight laugh, "Yeah, in Bludhaven. That's not a cop, that's a bad guy."  
  
"Not all Haven cops are dirty," Jim said defensively. Then he added, "He's been seeing Barbara. This is family."  
  
Akins sat down and looked at Jim. "He's seeing your daughter? I didn't realize Jim. I'm sorry. This must be difficult for all of you?"  
  
"Especially for Barbara. She doesn't know I'm here. Mike, I want to ask a favor. Now, I know, if I were you, I'd probably be taking offense. I was in your position many years, and I didn't like it when people asked me for favors. But now that I'm on this side of the desk, I can see another side too. I'm not asking you for special treatment for the boys. But Tim Drake's only sixteen years old. He and Dick are close, like brothers. Dick's just found out his father's dead -- I know you think he's guilty, I don't. Just keep them together. That's all I'm asking, keep them together."  
  
Michael Akins looked at Jim Gordon. This man was a legend in Gotham. And here he was, asking favors for accused murderers. How could he refuse this man?  
  
"You got it Commish."  
  
"That's your title now," Jim replied with a smile.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick laid on his bunk as Tim paced around in their cell.  
  
"Why don't you sit down?" Dick asked.  
  
"Nervous energy," Tim replied.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"You were right."  
  
"'Bout what?"  
  
"The difference between here and JDC."  
  
"Yeah," Dick mumbled.  
  
Tim moved over and sat on Dick's bunk. Quietly, he whispered, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry? About what?" Dick said sitting up and looking at his "little brother".  
  
"About Bruce. I can't believe it."  
  
Dick sat there quietly. The impact of the prosecutor's statement -- that the DNA test conclusively confirmed that it WAS Bruce who died -- hit Dick again. He had tried to forget that, to concentrate on something else, anything else. Pushing the dreaded thought from his conscious mind, he looked Tim in the eye, then looked down. "Me neither," he said softly.  
  
Tim placed a comforting arm around Dick's shoulders. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? So they sat together in silence until a guard opened the cell door. They looked at the door.  
  
"You've got a visitor Grayson."  
  
Dick stood up, patting Tim on the shoulder as he headed out. The guard took him by his right arm as he walked out of the cell toward the visitation cubicles. As Dick approached the visitation station, he caught a glimpse of a large dark haired man sitting their waiting for him. Dick felt his heart beat faster in his chest as a lump rose in his throat. Could it be?  
  
No! It wasn't. He tried a slight smile, hiding his disappointment, as he sat down, "Hi Clark."  
  
"Are you all right, Dick? What can I do?"  
  
"Find Bruce."  
  
Clark stared into Dick's dark blue eyes. His heart ached to see this boy -- this young man -- sitting here in jail. Of all the people in the world, Dick Grayson was one who didn't belong in jail. He hated to bring up the subject, "The DNA..."  
  
"I don't care! I don't think he's dead Clark."  
  
"Dick, I'll see what I can do? What I can find? I'm not the detective that Bruce was."  
  
"Is! That he is!" Dick exclaimed. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Am I kidding myself?"  
  
"You want it to be true. Bruce's death would be hard on you under any circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances. I know you want to get out of here, that you want to go home. And I know you're innocent. I'll help you any way I can."  
  
Dick smiled weakly. It wasn't the smile Clark remembered from that laughing colorfully clad little boy he had watched grow into a fine young man. Dick Grayson was as close to a nephew as Clark knew he'd ever get. His heart ached for the pain the boy was going through. He wished he could take that pain away, but that was something even his powers couldn't do.  
  
"Clark, I'd stay here forever if Bruce would just walk in here. That's all I need."  
  
"I know, son. I know."  
  
To be continued ... 


	6. A Different Game: Part 2b

A Different Game 2 b:  
  
Tim watched Dick pace their small cell. Three days had passed since they had made their first court appearance. Barbara had everyone working on the case, but there were no leads, no clues. Nothing to give anyone any hope that Bruce was still alive. Yet, Dick had continued to tightly hold on to hope. He maintained Bruce was alive. At least he had until yesterday.  
  
Bruce's funeral was today.  
  
Alfred had visited Dick yesterday. He told him arrangements had been made -- that Lucius Fox and the Wayne Enterprises Board had taken the responsibilities for the funeral. That was when reality set in -- hearing Alfred talk about Bruce being dead -- and that's when Dick seemed to have lost hope. Tim watched as Dick's emotions slowly begin to unravel. Dick had gone ballistic when they told him he couldn't go to the funeral. The attorneys tried to have the court allow him to go. But it was all in vain.  
  
"What time is it?" Dick asked Tim.  
  
"A minute later than the last time you asked me," Tim replied.  
  
Dick continued to pace the cell and Tim continued to watch him. Stopping at the back wall, Dick placed both hands on the wall and leaned his head against the cold concrete. A loud sigh escaped his lips. Then a low soft sound of quiet sobs. Tim felt so helpless. He stood up from his bunk and walked over to Dick, placing comforting hands on Dick's shoulders.  
  
Suddenly Dick broke from his grip and began to slam his fists into the wall -- over and over again.  
  
"They can't do this to me! Not again!" Dick said with a crack in his voice.  
  
"Do what again?"  
  
"He's my father. They can't keep me locked in here away from his funeral. They can't keep me from saying good-bye. This happened last time," he said, a deep sadness filling his tone.  
  
"Last time?" Tim asked again. He was curious, but he didn't want to pry.  
  
Dick turned to face Tim, tears in his eyes. "When my parents died, Child Protective Services took me into custody. Placed me in JDC."  
  
Tim nodded as Dick continued.  
  
"They ... they forgot me," he said in a quiet voice. He sounded so lost.  
  
"Forgot you?"  
  
"My parents funeral, they forgot me. Left me in JDC. I didn't ... I didn't get to go. And now ... it's happening again," he said in a pain filled voice.  
  
Tim looked at Dick. He had no idea. God, that must have been horrible. And now this! How could fate be so unkind to Dick?  
  
Dick turned back to the wall. Again, he slammed his fists, slammed them until blood started to flow. Tim grabbed Dick's arms -- stopping his assault on the wall. Or was it his assault on himself? Dick attempted to free himself from Tim's grasp.  
  
"Stop it!" Tim cried. "I know this is killing you! I miss him too! Everything's wrong and the whole world's gone crazy. But we've got to keep it together."  
  
Dick stopped struggling with Tim. He turned and faced the young boy. Tim's tears mirroring his own. Dick hugged Tim to him. They were both desperately trying to hold on to something they both felt they had lost forever.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Dinah, anything?" Oracle's voice echoed in the Black Canary's ear.  
  
"Nada, Boss lady," Dinah responded. "Batgirl and I have searched the Manor and we don't see anything that leads to the conclusion we want."  
  
Barbara Gordon sighed as she removed her glasses, rubbing her fingers on the bridge of her nose. The conclusion they wanted -- no needed -- the conclusion that Bruce was not dead. No clues. Azrael hadn't reported in yet, maybe he had something.  
  
"Maybe I should call in Spoiler too? Dad's volunteered to do some detective work and see what he can get from the GCPD. I'm sure Bullock'll give him information. Even Superman's here, in his less than public persona. He's a pretty good investigative reporter. But now you'd better head back now, it's almost time."  
  
Dinah could hear the tension in Babs' voice. The strain was beginning to show. Dinah wondered if Babs had eaten since this nightmare started? Or had she just holed herself up in that silicone tower of hers clicking away at her keyboard, trying to make sense of this topsy-turvy world. Before Dinah could say anything, she heard a buzzing in the background.  
  
"What the hell is she doing here?" Babs growled.  
  
"Who? She who? What's going on there?" Dinah asked, her left eyebrow arching upward.  
  
"Later," Babs said as she cut the connection and headed toward her front door. Reaching the door, she opened it, "Yes?"  
  
"Can I come in?" Helena Bertinelli asked.  
  
"Do I know you?" Barbara feigned.  
  
"Yeah, you do. And so does Dick," Helena said, then bending down and whispering, "or should I say Nightwing."  
  
Barbara wheeled backwards away from the door. "Come in."  
  
Helena entered the apartment and looked around. "Not many changes since I was here last."  
  
"What do you want?" Barbara asked, irritation in her voice.  
  
Helena sat on Barbara's sofa so they were eye to eye. "I want to help him too."  
  
"How do you know?" Babs asked with tears in her eyes.  
  
"I know he told you -- about US. It was just that one night. It didn't mean anything. He's yours. It was just something we both needed at the moment. But you know, we did have our clothes off. Including that mask of his," she added with a slight chuckle.  
  
"That's surprising," Babs replied flatly. "I guess with his face all over the news, you couldn't help but know."  
  
"No, I couldn't. But I do want to help him. Let me."  
  
"Helena, we'll take all the help we can get. Thank you." Barbara said as her voice started to crack.  
  
Helena reached over and took Barbara's hand. They sat in a comforting silence of understanding.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
The cell door clanked open.  
  
"You two! Out!" barked the guard.  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other with questioning eyes. What was going on?  
  
"Now!" the guard yelled impatiently.  
  
They left the cell and silently walked in the direction the guard had pointed with his nightstick in.  
  
"Stop!" the guard called as he unlocked the door to their left. They stepped inside the opening into the small conference room. Jon Walters and Wilson Avery sat at the table, a small TV/VCR combination unit sat on the table.  
  
"Come on in boys, we need to have a conference," Walters said as the guard closed the door.  
  
"I'm not in the mood to talk about that tape today," Dick replied as he sat down.  
  
"We know that," Walters stated sympathetically, "but the jailers don't. As long as we're working on your case, we can stay as long as we need."  
  
Tim looked on quizzically. "If we're not going to work on the case, what are we going to do."  
  
Wilson Avery patted Tim on the arm, "The funeral's going to be televised live. Since the judge wouldn't go along with letting you attend, Alfred and Barbara came up with the idea this morning that we could bring the funeral to you."  
  
Dick felt his chest tighten. His breathing was heavy. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. But it was better than nothing. At least, he could see and hear the funeral. And, in his heart, he'd be there. He closed his eyes and silently thanked God for Alfred and Barbara. Opening his eyes, he watched as his attorney pressed the on button. The TV was already set to GCTV whose live coverage had already started.  
  
Suddenly, he was anxious. While he needed to attend -- or at least watch -- the funeral, his soul cried out at the error of the ceremony. They shouldn't be having a funeral. Bruce shouldn't be dead. But the old saying is that life's not fair. And it was true.  
  
Dick watched as they went to the live feed from inside the Cathedral. Dick's breath caught in his throat as he watched the pallbearers, all Wayne Executives, bring the coffin into the sanctuary. His left hand reached out to the screen as he let out a small groan.  
  
Tim reached over and took Dick's right hand in his. His own tears had started to flow. This made it real.  
  
Together they sat and watched the Bishop and Wayne Enterprises' employees speak one by one. Everyone who was anyone was there. Even Lex Luthor was present. Dick thought he was going to be sick. Bruce had scared Lex out of Gotham at the end of No Man's Land, and now here he was acting like he cared Bruce was dead. All he cared about was thinking he could get his hands on Wayne Enterprises.  
  
Tim noticed that Alfred, Leslie Barbara and the rest of the 'family' had been relegated to back seats, far from the front of the cathedral. It was maddening. The people who Bruce loved the most weren't allowed to act as HIS family at HIS funeral. Tim knew Dick noticed too, but neither of them could speak.  
  
Only once did Tim hear a word come from Dick. It was hardly above a whisper. "Dad."  
  
Lucius Fox was the last speaker to eulogize Bruce. Dick smiled slightly as Lucius told stories about trying to keep Bruce interested in business meetings, about how Bruce helped people through his philanthropic contributions, about how Bruce loved Gotham, and fought for the city before and after No Man's Land. If only he knew how Bruce had fought for Gotham DURING the No Man's Land, and every night before and since.  
  
Lucius talked about Bruce's relationship with Alfred and Leslie, who had raised him. Thankfully, someone acknowledged their presence and importance in Bruce's life.  
  
"... And finally, I want to say what a wonderful, loving father Bruce Wayne was to his adopted son..." Lucius started.  
  
Dick looked up. Through tear filled eyes, he tried to smile. He was nodding his head in agreement as Lucius continued to speak.  
  
"... Jason Todd Wayne. Jason, who like Bruce, was taken too soon from those of us who cared for them. Who..."  
  
Dick's mouth dropped open. To Jason. AND? What about to him? Bruce was his father too. He hadn't been mentioned. Not once. Not by anyone. As if he didn't exist. As if his relationship to Bruce had never existed. He ran his hand across his forehead, back and forth, as if he was massaging a pain from his head. But the pain was in his heart, and he knew he couldn't make it go away. Would it ever go away?  
  
to be continued .... 


	7. A Different Game: Part 2c

A Different Game Part 2 c:  
  
Quiet.  
  
Other than the soft sounds of their breathing, no sound passed through their cell. Dick had lain on his bunk silently, facing the wall, since they had returned from watching Bruce's televised funeral. Tim sat on his bunk and watched the man he considered his older brother lay unmoving in a pain Tim knew he couldn't take away. It was as if Dick had given up during that funeral. As if his reason for living was buried in that coffin.  
  
Tim wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumpsuit, the tear stains muddying the orange material. He wanted to speak. NO! He wanted to scream. Yet, he silently sat there watching Dick. It was as if Tim were standing vigil over their shared grief.  
  
The pain in Tim's chest tightened. Sniffling, he stood up and walked the few short steps across the cell. He sat on the floor beside of Dick's bunk. Tim crossed his arms and laid them on the bunk. He sighed and rested his head on his arms.  
  
Slowly, silently, Dick turned to face the younger boy. It was the first time he had moved since re-entering the cell. His hand grabbed one of Tim's. Together they shared their heartache.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"My lead didn't pan out?"  
  
"What lead?"  
  
"About Grayson being in JDC," Detective Jacobs responded as he took a seat in the oversized chair near Peter Reynolds' desk. "Seems he was only placed there because his parents died and there were no fosters available. Nothing we can use."  
  
"Too bad. But don't worry, we've got everything we could need. This was a sloppy murder."  
  
"Yeah, but why go to the trouble of burning the body when they didn't even finish disposing of the remains?"  
  
"Jacobs, we're talking about two spoiled rich kids. Clean up would've interfered with their Friday night partying in the 'Haven. I suspect they intended to go back Saturday and dispose of the rest of the evidence. They had no clue someone was going to visit Bruce that night and stumble upon what they did," Reynolds said as he started shaking his head.  
  
Jacobs watched him. With concern, he asked, "You okay?"  
  
Reynolds sighed. "This case bothers me."  
  
"With this evidence?"  
  
"Not the legal case. It's just that -- well, Bruce was a friend of mine. I always felt that attorneys shouldn't get involved in cases where they have emotional ties. But I feel I owe Bruce this. You know, he wasn't the ditzy playboy he pretended to be. He was very interested in the criminal justice system. He deserves justice. And by God, I'm going to see that those two pay."  
  
BUZZ -- BUZZ  
  
Answering the intercom's signal, Reynolds picked up the phone receiver, "Yes. -- Hi Jon. -- They want what? -- Why should I give them what they want? -- OK, I'll speak to Judge Vargas and see what we can do. I'll call you."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara had left the 'family's' private wake they were holding in her apartment -- she needed to get away. Dinah entered Oracle's control room and watched her friend tapping away at her keyboard.  
  
"Hon, are you okay?"  
  
"Just needed to get back to work."  
  
"That's all you've been doing. You need to rest. You need to stop. You need -- "  
  
"I know who I need!" Babs stated sharper than she meant to.  
  
Dinah pulled a chair over and grabbed Barbara's hands -- stopping whatever search she was beginning.  
  
"Did you hear what you said," Dinah started softly.  
  
Barbara looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Yes. I said I know what I need."  
  
Dinah shook her head, keeping her hand on Barbara, "No, Hon, you didn't. You said you knew WHO you needed. And I know who you need too. How about you let me drive you to see him?"  
  
Barbara bit her lip in an attempt to keep herself from crying. She nodded her head at Dinah as they turned to leave.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Grayson! Out!" a guard barked.  
  
Dick continued to lay unmoving on his bunk. With wide eyes, Tim looked toward the door.  
  
"Out! Now!" the guard yelled, as Dick remained still.  
  
Tim squeezed Dick's hand. "Dick, you better go."  
  
"Grayson! Now!"  
  
"Please Dick," Tim whispered.  
  
Slowly, Dick sat up. Leaving the bunk, he walked out of the cell. The now irritated guard roughly grabbed him by his arm in a pulling-pushing motion. Dick didn't fight. Listlessly, he went along.  
  
"You've got to learn to do what you're told when you're told Grayson," the guard said. "You're not in that big Manor now, you do as you're told. Better to learn now than when you're in Blackgate."  
  
WHEN you're in Blackgate, not IF, he thought to himself. He'd been to Blackgate before. No, he stopped himself -- Robbie Malone and Nightwing have been to Blackgate -- Dick Grayson never had.  
  
The guard unlocked the entrance to the visitation hall and Dick walked in. He walked down the row of cubicles until he saw her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet his heart didn't skip a beat like it normally did when he saw her. His heart still hurt too much.  
  
Barbara smiled at him, "How are you?"  
  
He shrugged as he sat down. He just looked at her.  
  
"I needed to come see you?" she said as she noticed how quiet he was. So unusually quiet. "Dick, say something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Anything. Tell me how you feel."  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. He ran his hand over his face; he could feel the stubble on his skin. His blue eyes met her green ones and he sighed. "Babs, I don't feel anything. Not anymore. That's the problem. I'm just empty. Just here."  
  
Barbara felt the tears well up in her eyes, "Darling, you've got to hold on. You can't give up."  
  
"Have you found Bruce? Has anyone found Bruce?" he asked without waiting for the answers he already knew. "No one's found him, no one's found any clues. Nothing ... nothing Babs. There's nothing to find."  
  
She looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean?" she asked with a shaky voice.  
  
"Bruce is dead. We've got to accept that."  
  
"Dick," she started as her voice cracked.  
  
"I need to see Jean-Paul."  
  
"Why?" she asked, fearing she knew the answer  
  
"Because I do, Babs. Because Gotham needs him. He's got to take his place -- he's the only one who can."  
  
"Until you're --"  
  
"Dammit Babs, stop kidding yourself. Bruce IS dead! And the only clues lead to Tim and me. We aren't getting out!"  
  
Her tears were flowing unabashed. He couldn't be talking like this. He couldn't give up. "No! Don't say that! Don't talk like that! I won't let you!"  
  
"Babs," he sighed.  
  
"No! I love you Dick Grayson. I am NOT going to let you give up," she said as she placed her hand palm opened on the glass separating them.  
  
He watched as her tears flowed. He heard her voice. It had a calming, soothing effect on his soul. But it was her love that he felt. He felt it wrap around him and give him strength.  
  
She nodded her head in understanding as she tried to smile. "I need to touch you," she cried.  
  
He placed his hand against the cold glass covering hers. "I know. Me too."  
  
Jon Walters walked up to the visiting booth, "I'm glad to find you two together."  
  
They both looked at Dick's attorney.  
  
"What's going on Jon?" Dick queried.  
  
"I talked to Reynolds and Judge Vargas. Made a motion for a speedy trial. Usually, that means you get a trial in 70 days. Reynolds wants to use the publicity and keep the momentum of the story going though, we've got a trial date in three weeks."  
  
"We better get prepared."  
  
to be continued ....  
  
  
  
*** AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
This part makes reference to when "Robbie Malone" was in Blackgate. That comes from another fic of mine titled simply "Robbie Malone" it was the first in what's now been dubbed "Robbie Maloneverse" on the Bludhaven Yahoo Group. Now that I've been shown how to post here, Robbie and Robbieverse will be heading toward ff.net. 


	8. A Different Game: Part 2d

A Different Game 2 d:  
  
Wilson Avery sat in his conference room surrounded by trial notebooks and stacks of discovery documents detailing the evidence of the state and the defense case. He looked at photographs of his client Tim Drake -- photos of Tim with his parents before his mother's death, photos of Tim at school, photos of Tim and Dick Grayson, and a photo of a very young Tim Drake and a very young Dick Grayson at Haley's Circus -- that was their first meeting. Had fate known then how these two boys would be brought together?  
  
Avery wondered if he knew exactly what the boys relationship was? He doubted it. So did Jon Walters. He and Walters had discussed it. Discussed how they both felt their clients were holding something back from them -- something very important. Yet, neither of the attorneys felt the boys were lying about the murder. In their many years of practicing law, they had represented many guilty clients and their guts said their current clients were innocent, regardless of the mountain of evidence that indicated the contrary.  
  
When he heard the door open, Avery looked up to see Jack and Dana Drake walk in.  
  
"Come in. Sit down." He greeted them, noticing the haggard looks on both their faces and the dark circles around their eyes. He was sure neither were sleeping well. Any case like this takes a toll on a family -- but more so when a child was involved. Jack and Dana sat at the conference table.  
  
"So, the trial's next week," Jack asked hoarsely.  
  
"Yes. We've been working very hard the last two weeks and will continue to, I want you to know that. Tim's case is getting my undivided attention."  
  
"Thank you," Dana added.  
  
Jack sighed and looked directly at Wilson, "How does it look for Tim?"  
  
Avery tapped his pen on his legal pad as he looked into this father's face. "Not good. There's so much evidence against them. They look guilty. And they're both holding something back. I don't know what."  
  
"Is he guilty?" Jack asked.  
  
"Mr. Drake, I can't tell you that. I don't know the answer, but I don't feel he is."  
  
"So you think he's innocent, but it doesn't look good. Why? I don't understand," Jack asked as Dana gently took his hand.  
  
"My gut says he's a good kid. The evidence makes him look like a murderer."  
  
"So, you think he's going to be convicted?" Dana asked softly, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  
  
Wilson Avery closed his eyes and nodded his head. "But I'm going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening. But I have to be honest with you about this."  
  
"What about ..." Jack started to ask but choked -- a lump in his throat. Waiting a moment, he continued. "What about the sentence?" Jack felt a gnawing knot growing in his stomach.  
  
"I think Tim's got a better chance there than Dick does. the state only has three aggravating factors to ask for the death penalty for Tim, they have seven against Dick. I've come up with eight mitigating factors for Tim, especially his age. I think even with a guilty verdict, we've got a very good case for a life sentence."  
  
"Aggravating and mitigating factors," Jack said shaking his head, "I don't understand."  
  
"Aggravating factors are what the state argues makes this case worse than an ordinary murder. I know, no murder's ordinary. But the state has certain factors -- eleven to be exact -- which, if they're present, make a case eligible for the death penalty. We, the defense, have to counter these aggravating factors with mitigating factors. Anything we can come up with which lessen or diminish the defendant's culpability in the crime. We use anything we can to gain sympathy from the jury. It's like trying two cases -- the guilt innocence phase and the penalty phase."  
  
Dana reached across the table taking a tissue from the box and using it to wipe her tears. Jack stood up and walked toward the window looking out on the Gotham skyline.  
  
"I can't believe this. He's only sixteen years old. I can't believe that these are the only choices for the rest of my son's life," Jack said with tears in his eyes. "I'm such a bad father. How could I let this happen?"  
  
Dana moved to her husband, placing comforting hands on his shoulders. "No, you're not."  
  
"Yes I am. If I were a good father, Tim wouldn't ... he wouldn't be -- I don't even know my own son. I have to ask if he's guilty or not. I've thought he was guilty. What kind of man am I, to think that about my own son?"  
  
"Jack," Wilson Avery started, "no one's perfect. But you love your son. That's the most important thing. And you're here for him."  
  
"How can I help him?"  
  
"Just support him, that's all you can do right now. Let me do the rest."  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Tim walked through the cafeteria carrying a metal tray. He sat it down on the table at the far side of the cafeteria, taking a seat beside of Dick Grayson, their backs against the wall. He started forking through his food, never quiet taking the food to his mouth.  
  
"Not exactly Alfred's cooking, is it?" Dick asked.  
  
"Not even your cooking," Tim responded.  
  
"Well, hopefully, we've only got two more weeks of this," Dick said.  
  
"Yeah, I can't wait to get home."  
  
"I can't wait to get out of here and find out what happened to Bruce."  
  
"Yeah," Tim agreed.  
  
Two large prisoners, gang members by their tattoos, came and joined them at the table. Dick and Tim started eating their food.  
  
"You two those rich boys, ain't'cha?"  
  
Dick looked across the table but kept eating his food.  
  
"Yeah, this is them," the other prisoner said. "So, you killed your old man?"  
  
Dick's blue eyes glared at the man in front of him as he quietly responded, "No."  
  
Tim turned toward Dick, unsure of what to do.  
  
"Hey, no worries 'bout us man, we ain't no jail house snitches. Youse the celebrities here -- all on TV and stuff."  
  
"Glad we're entertaining," Dick responded as he took a bite of his food.  
  
"So, youse saying you didn't do nuthin'?"  
  
"Yep," Tim added.  
  
"Sure man, we know. We didn't do nuthin' either," they laughed.  
  
Tim turned to Dick. Their eyes met. Hopefully, the jury would be more understanding.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Clark walked over to the table in the cafe with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Setting the cups down on the table, he slid into the booth across from Jim Gordon. In the weeks since Dick's arrest, they had been working with the attorneys. Acting as investigators. Helping however they could.  
  
"Thanks for the coffee," Jim said.  
  
"No problem," Clark responded as he opened his file. "I finally spoke with the medical examiner."  
  
"Anything we can use?"  
  
"Unfortunately, no. The DNA test seems to be right. Cause of death was multiple stab wounds."  
  
"That coincides with information I received from Bullock. He spoke with Jacobs, the theory is that the boys stabbed Bruce in the den. Looks like the state has a good case."  
  
"Yeah," Clark responded as he took a sip of his coffee and they prepared to dig into their work.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dinah and Cassandra were boxing up Nightwing's equipment in "Doctor Fleudermaus'" apartment and moved the boxes through the secret entrance into Dick's apartment. Dinah left Cassie in the adjoining apartment and walked into Dick's bedroom. She opened his closet door and stared at his clothes. Then she moved to his bedside table and opened the communications link to Oracle.  
  
Barbara Gordon's face appeared on the screen. "What's up Dinah?"  
  
"I started going through his clothes, are you sure you want me to do this -- I mean, wouldn't you rather come down here and pick out what he needs for court next week. Or send Alfred, he's good at dressing these guys."  
  
Barbara gave her a weak smile, "If you really want me to, I'll send Alfred."  
  
"Yeah do that. Cassie and me, we've got the equipment under control, but I'm not too good at dressing your Ken doll, Barbie."  
  
"Will do. Hey will you check Dick's mail for me? See if there's anything important."  
  
"You got it boss lady. Hang on." Dinah headed toward the living room where she had dropped the mail on the coffee table. She returned to the bedroom going through the stacks of letters, "Bill, bill, pre-approved credit card application, bill, free vacation special -- he'll need that when he gets home -- uh oh."  
  
Barbara arched an eyebrow, "Uh oh what?"  
  
"He's got a letter from the BPD."  
  
"Open it," Barbara said.  
  
Dinah complied and quickly scanned the letter, a scowl forming on her face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"They've fired him."  
  
"What!"  
  
"'Officer Grayson, we regret to inform you that your position's been terminated because of violating' yadda yadda yadda 'resulting in your arrest for a felony during your ninety day probationary period' yadda yadda yadda. Fired."  
  
Barbara raised her hand to her forehead and let out a groan, "That's the last thing he needed."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Gin!"  
  
"What? You cheat!"  
  
"I do not."  
  
"Do too."  
  
"Do not," Tim replied sticking his tongue out at Dick.  
  
"Then let me deal," Dick said grabbing the cards from Tim. He started shuffling the deck and tossing the cards across the cell floor to Tim. He had finished dealing when the cell door opened.  
  
Detective Jacobs walked into the cell. "You two seem to be enjoying yourselves."  
  
Dick and Tim turned toward Jacobs, their blue eyes glaring at him.  
  
"What do you want?" Dick asked coldly.  
  
"Got a present for you Grayson."  
  
Dick stood up, quickly followed by Tim. Jacobs approached them as a guard stood by the door. Jacobs handed a blue form to Dick.  
  
"What's this?" Dick asked.  
  
"Since you're already in jail, I don't have to rearrest you. Just served you with another charge."  
  
Dick shook his head in disbelief, "What now?"  
  
"Contributing to the delinquency of a minor," Jacobs smiled at him. "Have fun boys. I'll see you next week."  
  
  
  
To be continued ...  
  
***AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
In case anyone's interested in the factors Tim's attorney was discussing with the Drake's, here they are. I sat down one Saturday with the statute books and said to my self, If Dick and Tim were my clients what would they be looking at -- and I did the chart of the factors. This is how it broke down when I did it: WARNING LEGALESE TO FOLLOW:  
  
AGGRAVATING FACTORS:  
  
FOR DICK:  
  
1. The Defendant induced others to participate in the crime or occupied a position of leadership or dominance over the other participants;  
  
2. The offense was especially heinous, atrocious and cruel;  
  
3. The Defendant was armed or used a deadly weapon;  
  
4. The Defendant involved a minor in the commission of the crime;  
  
5. The Defendant took advantage of a position of trust or confidence to commit the offense;  
  
6. The offense violated the parent child relationship;  
  
7. The offense was committed for pecuniary gain  
  
FOR TIM:  
  
1. The offense was especially heinous, atrocious and cruel;  
  
2. The Defendant was armed or used a deadly weapon;  
  
3. The Defendant took advantage of a position of trust or confidence to commit the offense;  
  
MITIGATING FACTORS:  
  
FOR DICK:  
  
Statutory  
  
1. The Defendant has been a person of good character or reputation in the community where he lives;  
  
2. The Defendant has a support system in the community;  
  
3. The Defendant has a positive employment history or is gainfully employed;  
  
4. The Defendant has no significant history of prior criminal activities  
  
Additional  
  
5. The Defendant's parents were killed when he was 12, leaving him an orphan  
  
FOR TIM:  
  
Statutory  
  
1. The Defendant has been a person of good character or reputation in the community where he lives;  
  
2. The Defendant has a support system in the community;  
  
3. The Defendant was an accomplice or accessory and his participation in the crime was relatively minor;  
  
4. The Defendant has no significant history of prior criminal activities;  
  
5. The Defendant committed the offense under the duress, coercion, threat or compulsion which while not a defense, reduces the defendant's culpability;  
  
6. The Defendant's age and immaturity at the time of the crime reduces the defendant's culpability;  
  
7. The Defendant is a minor;  
  
Additional  
  
8. The Defendant's mother is deceased.  
  
It's up to the jury to decide what factors exist and, as to the mitigators even if they exist the jury can decide they don't have any mitigating value. Aggravating factors have to be found unanimously while mitigators can be found by only one juror. 


	9. A Different Game: Part 3a

A Different Game 3a:  
  
  
  
"Hey Tim," Stephanie said with a smile as he walked into view in the visitation cubicle. He threw up his left hand at her as he took a seat.  
  
"Hey Steph," he said as he weakly smiled at her.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
He moved his head from side to side. "I'm okay. I'm still here. But at least next week, I'll get to get out of here."  
  
Stephanie managed to smile at him, "The trial?"  
  
"Yeah," he said drumming his fingers on the desktop. "Being in the courtroom's got to be better than sitting in here all day."  
  
"Yeah, it will be. I'm going to be there for you. Every day. I'll be sitting right behind you."  
  
"What about school?"  
  
"Mom said I could take off. It's a good thing, because I would be there anyway," she said and then sighed. "I can't believe you've been stuck in here over a month. I've ... I've missed you," she said softly, a single tear escaping her eye.  
  
"Yeah, I've missed you too. Hey, lets talk about something else. Anything else," he said rolling his eyes and slightly smiling at her.  
  
"The nightlife's been hectic. Jean-Paul, Cassandra, and I have been taking care of Gotham while Helena's been in Bludhaven. Dinah's been going between the two, wherever she's needed. But it's not the same."  
  
Tim's eyes had a far away look. He remembered Gotham nights -- flying over the city -- free as a bird. A Robin to be exact. Flying alongside Dick and with Bruce. Had it only been a month since he last done that, since they were all together and happy? Doing their jobs, protecting their cities. It felt like years. His chest felt heavy as his breathing grew rapid.  
  
"Are you all right, Tim?"  
  
"Yeah, just thinking. Remembering. I'm ... I'm glad you're gonna be there next week."  
  
"I wouldn't be anywhere else. I've missed you."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Jim Gordon used his key to enter Barbara's apartment. He saw the empty take-out containers strewn on the coffee table and throughout the kitchen. As he passed her bedroom, he noticed her made bed. He shook his head. She hadn't been sleeping. What little bit of rest she was taking was either on her couch or at her computer. He worried about her as much as he worried about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake.  
  
If Dick were convicted, what would it do to Barbara? He had an idea, and it worried him. She had finally started coming out of the shell she had built around herself after she lost the use of her legs. And he knew that Dick Grayson was responsible for a large part of her emergence. He prayed that she wouldn't have to endure life without him.  
  
"Barbara," he began as he entered he control room.  
  
"Hi Dad," she answered not taking her eyes off her computers.  
  
"When have you rested?" he asked, concern in his voice.  
  
"Don't have time to rest. The trial starts tomorrow and we're no closer to an answer than when this nightmare began. I have to keep looking. We're missing something. I don't know what, but we're missing something. And I've got to find it. I've got to -- "  
  
"Babs, honey, stop," Jim said as he grabbed her hands and moved them away from the keyboard. As he held her hands, she turned her head to face him. That's when he saw the tears rolling down her face. The tears her voice had hidden from him. Releasing her hands, he moved his to wipe the tears away. He saw the streaks previous tears had made on her face. Her eyes held an exhausted look. "Honey, you're killing yourself. Everything that can be done has been done. It's up to the lawyers now."  
  
"But that's not good enough," she cried. "HE would have found out what was going on by now. HE would have solved this case. HE would have Dick and Tim home by now." She dropped her head into her hands.  
  
"I know honey, I know. I miss him too."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Thanks for watching Lian while we're in Gotham, Toni."  
  
"No problem," she responded as she watched Roy packing his bags. "Wally, Donna, and I will keep everyone here posted on everything as soon as it happens."  
  
"The TV news will be doing that," Toni added pointing to the muted TV in the corner of the room. Pictures of Bruce, Dick and Tim filling the screen.  
  
Lian sat on the edge of his bed swinging her legs and looking at the TV. "Will you see Unca' Dick?"  
  
"Yes Princess, I will."  
  
"Daddy, why's Unca' Dick in jail like Mommy? Mommy does bad things, but Unca Dick does good things. Did Unca Dick do something bad? Did he hurt a bunch'a people like Mommy?"  
  
Roy sighed as he stopped packing and sat beside Lian. Quickly moving her into his lap, he tried to explain. "Lian, Uncle Dick hasn't done anything bad. Some people just think he has, but he hasn't. They just made a mistake."  
  
"But you'll help them understand they made a mistake won't you? You get Unca Dick out and bring him here. I miss him."  
  
Roy hugged her tightly, "I miss him too, sweetie, I miss him too."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Lights out!" the command echoed through the Gotham City Jail over the intercom system.  
  
Dick and Tim silently lay on their bunks. The only sound passing through the cell was that of their breathing. Neither of them were tired. They were too nervous to sleep. They were worried. However, neither of them wanted to admit it. So they silently lay on their bunks, their minds filled with their own thoughts. They knew each other was awake. Yet, they didn't feel like talking. The silence shared their emotions.  
  
They tossed and turned all night, getting very little rest. Sleep came only in brief moments. The closer morning came, the larger the knot in their stomachs became.  
  
Dick sat up on his bunk in the early morning hours shortly before the six o'clock "Lights on!" announcement. He laid his head back against the wall. He saw Tim's legs swing over his bunk and stand on the floor. Moving across the small cell, Tim sat on Dick's bunk and moved back against the wall, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.  
  
"You okay, bro?" Dick asked.  
  
"Yeah," Tim said. "Dick, what'd ya think's going to happen?"  
  
"I don't know. Wish I did. I thought it was a mistake. That it was all a mistake. And that they'd find it out and we'd go home. But it hasn't happened. Bruce hasn't shown up and it's been over a month. No sign of him. I just don't know what's going to happen, Tim, I just don't know. It's all so wrong."  
  
"But it'll be over soon, right?"  
  
Dick looked at Tim, into the boy's hopeful eyes. All he could answer him was, "Yeah, it'll be over soon."  
  
"Lights on!" sounded throughout the Gotham City Jail. Together, they sat on the bunk waiting for their cell door to open. They heard the clanging of other cell doors opening, yet theirs stayed closed. They watched as other prisoners, similarly clad in orange jumpsuits, walked in rows, toward the cafeteria. Dick and Tim looked at each other, what was going on?  
  
About fifteen minutes later, a guard came to the door and slipped two trays through the slit at the bottom of the cell.  
  
"Why," Tim started hesitantly, "why aren't we going to the cafeteria?"  
  
The guard looked at Tim through the steel bars and responded, "You've got court this morning. We've got to keep you on a tight schedule. You shower and change for court in thirty. So eat up, you've got a big day."  
  
Dick stood from the bunk and walked to retrieve the trays. He picked them up and handed one to Tim who took it and sat it beside him.  
  
"I think if I eat anything I'm going to throw up."  
  
Dick looked at the boy and softly said, "I understand. But if you don't eat anything, you're going to be sick too. And we won't make a good impression on the jury if you get sick in front of them."  
  
"Okay, I'll try to eat," Tim replied as he took the plastic fork and started stirring his scrambled eggs.  
  
The guard had been right about them being on a tight schedule. Exactly thirty minutes later, their cell door opened and they were called out and moved to the showers. This was the first time they had been here alone. They caught their breath as the cold water hit their skin, cascading over their bodies. The water abruptly ended just as it started to warm. Shivering, they shook the water from their hair as they dried off. Exiting the other end of the showers, they were greeted by a guard who handed them suit bags containing the clothes they would wear to court.  
  
Dick smiled briefly as he opened his bag. It was obvious Alfred had put the combinations together -- everything matched too well. Not the normal Dick Grayson throw-something-together-and-run-out-the-door planning.  
  
It was seven-thirty when the guards checked to see if they were ready. They were moved to a holding cell to wait for the transport van's arrival. Fifteen minutes later, four guards entered the cell -- shackles and manacles in hand.  
  
Wide-eyed, Tim watched them as they laid out the restraints, then he turned to Dick. "What's all that? They've only handcuffed us before?" then turning back to the guards, he asked, "What's all that for?"  
  
One of the guards turned from their work and said, "Detective Jacobs was worried about a possible escape attempt so we're taking extra precautions."  
  
Dick closed his eyes before he faced Tim. He didn't want the young boy to see how angry he was with the good detective. Jacobs was taking too much pleasure in this. Opening his eyes, he turned to Tim, "Nothing we can do about it Tim. Just stay calm, we don't need to get upset today."  
  
Tim nodded his head in agreement as his eyes looked to the floor.  
  
The guard spoke up, "If you two could move to the center of the room. Face each other about two feet apart. Move your arms straight out by your side." Dick and Tim did as they were told, obeying each separate command.  
  
The guards moved to the boys, two guards each. Dick and Tim felt the heavy chain move around their waist and heard them lock. One guard grabbed their wrists, one at a time, shackling them to the chain about their waist, while the other guard locked the manacles around their ankles.  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other. They didn't need to speak. They understood how the other felt.  
  
Once the guards checked the restraints ensuring they were secure and tight, one of the guards said, "Let's move out."  
  
The three mile ride to the courthouse from the jail in the transport van took fifteen minutes in Gotham's morning rush hour traffic. Luckily, they were the only prisoners in the van. As the van pulled into the gated prisoner loading area behind the courthouse, Tim saw the reporters gathered at the gate.  
  
"Geeze, how many reporters are here? What is this? A sporting event?"  
  
Dick turned to the window. "Great. Well, we knew they were going to be here."  
  
"Yeah, but I didn't know we were going to be like this!" he responded as he tried to lift his hands. "They're just gonna love these photos."  
  
"Don't think about it, Tim. Ignore the press."  
  
"I try, but it's hard Dick. What do our friends think about all this. Stephanie and Cassandra are the only visitors I've had except for Dad and Dana and Alfred. None of my friends from school -- either school -- have... What do they think? What are they going to think if they see me on TV like this? And if we get out ..."  
  
"When! When we get out!"  
  
Tim sighed and bit his lip before continuing, "When we get out, how are they going to feel about having me around?"  
  
"Don't think about any of that now bro. We've got a big day -- a big week -- ahead of us. Lets focus on one thing at a time."  
  
Dick and Tim were taken into the courthouse and moved into a conference area. Jon Walters and Wilson Avery were waiting for them. Their lawyers watched as their clients were freed from the restraints. The guards left through the door they entered from, locking it behind them. Dick noticed the door on the opposite side of the room.  
  
"Where does that go?" Dick asked.  
  
"Into the courtroom. That's how you'll enter and leave," Walters said.  
  
"They're trusting us in here?" Tim asked as he rubbed his sore wrists.  
  
"Two bailiffs are on the other side of that door," Wilson Avery added. "Boys, everything's starting with jury selection. That's going to take a while in this case, and we know it's going to be extremely boring for you."  
  
"Publicity. That's why it's going to be hard to find a jury?" Dick asked.  
  
"That and death-qualifying the jury." Jon Walters responded.  
  
"What is that?" Tim asked looking at the two older men.  
  
"Determining the prospective jurors views on capital punishment. No one can sit on the jury who doesn't believe in capital punishment. That makes it difficult for us to find people who aren't predisposed to find any defendant guilty."  
  
Dick laced his fingers together behind his head as he walked around the room, "So you're saying that people who could not give someone the death penalty at all, cannot be on the jury. How is that fair to us?"  
  
"It's not, but that's how it is."  
  
"Well that makes me feel better," Dick said sarcastically.  
  
Jon Walters looked at his watch, "It's eight forty-five. Let's move on out and take our places. We don't want the judge to get angry at us for being late."  
  
As they left the conference room and started walking toward the defendant's table, they saw Peter Reynolds and Detective Jacobs sitting at the opposite table. Dick and Tim glared at Jacobs. Then Dick saw Barbara. She was sitting at the end of the front row immediately behind their table. She smiled at him and he returned her smile. Upon reaching the table, he tentatively reached his hand across the wooden bar separating the spectators from the participants. She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  
  
Jack Drake had stood up when Tim had entered the room. Tim had walked over to his father, who hugged the boy tightly.  
  
Dick, still holding Barbara's hand, noticed their family and friends. The first row was taken up by the Drake's, Clark, Leslie, Alfred, Jim, and Barbara at the end of the row. Filling the second row were Dinah, Roy, Donna, Wally, Cassandra, and Stephanie. Seeing everyone, feeling their support, Dick felt warm.  
  
"Boys," Jon started, "take your seats. The judge is coming out.  
  
They had just pulled their chairs out when the bailiff cried out, "All rise ..."  
  
  
  
to be continued ... 


	10. A Different Game: Part 3b

A Different Game 3b:  
  
Four days passed slowly as the jury was picked, but the family sat supportively behind the boys. Barbara sat beside the first row in the aisle nearest the wall. Her father sat on the end of the row, her hand in his most of the time. Alfred sat immediately behind Dick, Leslie comfortingly at his side. Clark's strong presence buffered Dick's family from Dana and Jack Drake who took up the remainder of the front row. The family had learned in these four days to eagerly await the recesses in the proceedings. With the exception of the lunch recess, the boys could stay in the courtroom and they could talk with them and they could touch them. Barbara relished those opportunities -- holding Dick's hand, hugging him, sneaking him a kiss when she could.  
  
But they were not the only support Dick and Tim had. Stephanie and Cassandra leant Tim some well deserved friendship. Someone his own age that he could count on to be there for him. Dinah religiously sat behind Jim Gordon so she was close to Barbara. Beside her, sat the Titans contingent. Early in the proceeding Wally had commented that he didn't think Roy could sit still so long. Roy had just glared at Wally in response as Donna, stuck sitting between them, rolled her eyes. Dinah, sitting on the opposite side of Roy at the end of the row, patted his knee like he was a child.  
  
Tim and Dick had been instructed by their attorneys to look interested, to look like they were participating in the jury selection process. In reality, they were completely lost. And they hated the feeling. That was the worst part of the situation -- the lack of control they had. On Thursday afternoon, they watched as the attorneys gave their opening statements. They had to sit, emotionless, listening as Reynolds painted them cold-blooded killers.  
  
Today, the state started presenting their case. Evidence Peter Reynolds was confident would convict them. Reynolds stood facing Judge Maria Vargas and announced, "The state calls Lucius Fox as its first witness."  
  
Dick turned toward the courtroom door as Lucius Fox walked in. He went past the bar and headed toward the witness stand. As he walked past Dick's table, he never once turned to look at him. Placing his hand on the Bible and taking the oath, Lucius sat down. Only then did his eyes connect with Dick's. Lucius glared at Dick. In that look, Dick saw that Lucius thought he was guilty. How could he think that? Lucius knew him. Had known him since he first came to live with Bruce. Why? He thought about the many times he had been around Lucius while he was growing up, at the Manor, at Bruce's office. Dick's thoughts captivated his mind as Reynolds went through the introductory questions. Hearing Reynolds use his name brought Dick out of his memories.  
  
"Did you have an opportunity to observe Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson's relationship?"  
  
"Yes, on many occasions."  
  
"Can you tell the court about that relationship?"  
  
"Certainly," Lucius responded. "When Dick first came to live with Bruce, they were very close. Bruce was so proud of that boy. Dick was always hanging around the office. He loved spending time with Bruce."  
  
"Did that ever change?"  
  
"Yes. Right after Dick graduated from high school, he and Bruce started growing apart. They argued a lot. Bruce was upset about it. He wouldn't talk about it much, but I could tell. I'd find him sitting in his office just looking at photos of the two of them."  
  
Dick looked down and sighed. He never knew about that. Bruce had never said -- well Bruce never would.  
  
"Then Dick moved out." Lucius continued, "At first, he went to college, but Dick dropped out after the first semester and moved to New York. Dick went over a year without speaking to Bruce."  
  
"Mr. Fox, what if anything did Mr. Wayne do during that time period?"  
  
"He was lonely. Then, that was the time he adopted Jason. I think that Bruce was trying to replace Dick, at least at first. He grew to love Jason as a son though. But he found he couldn't replace the boy he saw as his eldest son. "  
  
"During this time period, was there any contact from Mr. Grayson?" Reynolds asked.  
  
"Other than Dick's bills being sent to Wayne Enterprises, no. I oversaw the payments."  
  
"What about the adoption of Jason Todd, how did Dick Grayson react to that?"  
  
Dick looked up as Peter Reynolds asked this question. The mention of Jason was a painful subject. It had always been for both Bruce and Dick. Jason's death had left a void in both of their lives.  
  
"Dick was jealous of Jason. Bruce told me how Dick had questioned him why he adopted Jason and not him." Lucius said as Dick rubbed his temple. He remembered that conversation. It had happened at Donna's wedding. It wasn't a bad conversation; it had been one of their better conversations -- one of the healing conversations that had tentatively started mending their relationship. Not that everything was magically better after that. Things managed to get a lot worse before they got better, but that had helped. It had been a start.  
  
"Objection! Hearsay." Jon Walters exclaimed as he stood up.  
  
"Sustained," Judge Vargas ruled.  
  
Peter Reynolds smiled and continued his questioning, unfazed, "What else happened in the relationship?"  
  
"Then Jason died in that accident. Dick didn't even come to the funeral. It was months later before he showed up. He and Bruce argued. I knew that. Bruce told me he had taken Dick's key away from him. Bruce was very upset, but he wouldn't open up. It was then that Dick seemed to really go wild in New York. I saw newspaper and magazine stories about him with all these different girls. Then, there was the model he moved in with," Lucius said shaking his head.  
  
"You paid Dick Grayson's bills while he was in New York. How much of Bruce Wayne's money did he spend?"  
  
"Dick lived in New York for three years. During that time, even after he and Bruce started back speaking to each other, they had very little contact. But Dick had no problems spending Bruce's money. He managed to spend over thirty million dollars in those three years. And on what I have no idea. He had nothing to show for it. What does a boy between the ages of nineteen and twenty-one do with thirty million dollars?"  
  
Roy turned toward Wally and Donna. They knew what the money had been spent on. It was Dick's contribution to the Titans. But there was no way to explain that. It made Dick look so bad.  
  
"What else happened in their relationship, Mr. Fox?"  
  
"Bruce was seriously injured in a accident. He was confined to a wheelchair. But Dick never came to visit him. His father was in a wheelchair for a year and he never visited him. He was even going to marry that model he was living with and I don't think he even invited Bruce."  
  
Dick looked up and whispered to Jon Walters, who nodded as he kept writing, "That's not true, I did invite Bruce. He didn't come," .  
  
Peter Reynolds walked over near the defense table, so that Lucius Fox was looking at the defendants. "Mr. Fox, do you know Tim Drake?"  
  
"Yes I do. Bruce was very fond of him. He was like another son to Bruce."  
  
"What do you know of his relationship with Dick Grayson?"  
  
"They're very close. Recently, they had been coming to Bruce's office together. They were almost always together when I saw them. Bruce and the boys were growing very close. At least, that's what I thought. Bruce finally formally adopted Dick in March. I thought that the bumps in their relationship where over. I would have never thought Dick capable of murdering Bruce, until I saw it with my own eyes."  
  
Walters had jumped from his chair objecting as Dick was turning from his attorney to Tim and back again.  
  
"What!" Dick exclaimed as he turned back to Tim who was looking at him with a confused look. "What is he talking about? He couldn't see us do anything because ..."  
  
"Shh," Wilson Avery said firmly. "Be quiet now."  
  
Dick forcefully sat back in his chair shaking his head. His emotions were churning raw inside him.  
  
"Mr. Fox," Judge Vargas questioned, "are you saying that you saw the Defendants kill Mr. Wayne?"  
  
"No your Honor. I saw the videota -- "  
  
Maria Vargas held up her hand, "That's enough Mr. Fox, we'll talk about that in a while. Objection sustained Mr. Walters. The jury will disregard Mr. Fox's last statement."  
  
Dick leaned over to Tim and whispered, "How do they forget what they've heard?"  
  
Tim turned to Dick and sighed, "I don't know."  
  
"Now, Mr. Fox, I'm going to draw your attention to the evening of July 27, 2001. Did anything happen on that night?"  
  
"Yes," Lucius said with emotion in his voice, "that's when Bruce...died." Lucius removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his tears. "I ... I found his body in Wayne Manor. I had gone there with some papers Bruce had forgotten to sign. Bruce was always forgetting to sign important papers. When I arrived, I rang the bell, but there was no answer. Bruce gave me a key many, many years ago, so I let myself in. That's when I proceeded to go the study. There was a smell. It was horrendous. I had smelt it before unfortunately. When I was in the war. Burning flesh. It's a smell you never forget.  
  
"I...I saw the open doors leading to the veranda, and I followed. That's when I saw ... it. The body. It was ... it was burning," Lucius said as emotion filled his voice and stopped him from talking.  
  
Peter Reynolds poured a glass of water at the prosecution table and carried it to Lucius, sitting it in front of him. "Mr. Fox, I know this is terribly hard on you, and I'm sorry. But can you tell us what you did next?"  
  
"I ran back into the study and called 911."  
  
"And after the police came, did you assist them in their investigation?"  
  
"Well, I don't know how much I assisted. I ... I answered their questions and told them about the security cameras."  
  
"Did you watch the security tapes with the police officers?"  
  
"Yes, with Detective Jacobs."  
  
"And could you describe what you saw on the tape?"  
  
"The security tapes only show the entrances to the Manor. Bruce wouldn't have the cameras inside the house, even though I recommended it to him on more than one occasion. He felt it would violate his privacy," Lucius said shaking his head at the thought before he continued, "When I saw the tape, I couldn't believe what I saw. Didn't want to believe what I saw."  
  
"Which was?" Reynolds asked.  
  
"The tapes showed Dick and Tim leaving the Manor by the garage exit. I ... I identified the boys for Detective Jacobs. They...they were -- laughing and talking about what they were going to do over the weekend." Lucius said, a look of disbelief on his face.  
  
"And why did that disturb you?"  
  
"Because there was blood on their clothes. Bruce's blood."  
  
"Objection! Speculation."  
  
"Sustained."  
  
"One final question Mr. Fox. Based upon the security camera tapes you reviewed, did anyone else enter or leave the Manor after the Defendants?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Fox, nothing further."  
  
Tim leaned into Dick and whispered, "He doesn't need anything further."  
  
Dick nodded his head in agreement as he watched the jury and the glares they were giving them. Reynolds had started out strong and Dick had a strong suspicion that Reynolds hadn't fired his big guns yet. And that suspicion caused the knot in his stomach to tighten. He watched Tim rub the back of his neck. Neither of them were used to sitting as still as they had this week. Who knew how tiring just sitting could be?  
  
They watched as Jon Walters questioned Lucius -- bringing out good facts of Bruce and Dick's relationship. How he really didn't know how Bruce had felt, that he had just been speculating. Dick could tell that Lucius was not happy as Walters cut him off and kept him from explaining. He also watched the jury. He wondered how much, if any of the cross-examination was really making a difference. The looks they were giving Tim and he made him uneasy. He could tell Tim felt the same way by the way the younger boy fidgeted in his chair and kept darting his eyes toward the jury. Dick nudged Tim to get his attention and gave the boy a slight smile, which he returned.  
  
Peter Reynolds watched as Lucius left the stand and walked past counsel tables toward the audience section of the courtroom. Reynolds smiled as someone caught his eye and an idea formed quickly in his head. He leaned over to Detective Jacobs and whispered, "I've an idea, watch." Then straightening back up, he said, "Your Honor, the State calls Alfred Pennyworth to the stand."  
  
Dick's head jerked towards Reynolds, "What! He can't do that!" Jon Walters placed a hand on Dick's shoulders in an attempt to calm his client down. Dick jerked away and turned toward Alfred who was sitting behind him. Alfred reached across the bar that separated them and Dick took his hand. Holding tightly, he asked his attorney, "What are they doing?"  
  
Jon Walters didn't answer Dick, he simply stood to face the judge, "Your Honor, Mr. Pennyworth is on the defense's witness list, not the prosecution's."  
  
"But he is on the list, correct Mr. Walters?" Judge Vargas asked.  
  
"Yes, your Honor."  
  
"Then Mr. Reynolds may call him. Mr. Pennyworth, please take the stand."  
  
Alfred, still holding Dick's hand, stood erect. The dignified elderly gentlemen gave Dick's hand a supportive squeeze before releasing it and heading toward the stand.  
  
Dick's eyes trailed Alfred. Dick's breathing was heavier than before, his heart was pounding faster. Tim watched the events around him, looking from Dick to Alfred and back again. He felt as if his life was spiraling faster and faster out of control.  
  
Peter Reynolds walked toward the witness stand, "You are Alfred Pennyworth, correct?"  
  
Sitting perfectly erect, gray eyes boring into Peter Reynolds, Alfred's clipped British accent curtly replied, "I am."  
  
"Now Mr. Pennyworth, you worked for Bruce Wayne, did you not?"  
  
"I have served the Wayne family for many years. However, most recently, I have been acting a personal valet for Master Timothy at Brentwood Academy."  
  
Tim smiled at Alfred at the mention of his name.  
  
"Yes, about that, you weren't employed by Jack Drake in that position were you?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"Thank you. Going back to Bruce Wayne. Your relationship with him was not simply that of employer and employee, was it?"  
  
"No sir, it was not."  
  
"You raised Bruce Wayne after his parents murder."  
  
"Along with Dr. Leslie Thompkins. We were his legal guardians. I had been in his family's employ since before Master Bruce's birth. His parents knew that should anything happen to them, I would endeavor to take care of Master Bruce."  
  
"And how old was Bruce Wayne when his parents were murdered?"  
  
"He was six."  
  
"So you raised him from the age of six. Tell the court how you felt about Mr. Wayne?"  
  
"Sir?" Alfred asked as he looked at Reynolds.  
  
"Would it be fair to say that you considered him your son?"  
  
"Yes, sir. That would be fair to say."  
  
"And did you assist Mr. Wayne in raising Richard Grayson after he came to live with Mr. Wayne?"  
  
"Most certainly sir," Alfred said with an air of pride as he looked to Dick who smiled back at him. "Master Richard brought a light into that old house. A light to both Master Bruce and my lives."  
  
"Would it then, Mr. Pennyworth, be fair to say that you considered Richard Grayson as sort of a grandson."  
  
"That would be exactly how I would describe our relationship. Master Bruce was certainly the father figure in that relationship. As such, I was allowed the luxury of not necessarily being the disciplinarian in that relationship, as most grandparents are allowed."  
  
Peter Reynolds smiled at the elderly man as he continued. "Living in Wayne Manor with both Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, you could observe their relationship better than anyone else, wouldn't you agree."  
  
"Most certainly, Mr. Reynolds."  
  
"You heard Mr. Fox's testimony earlier today concerning their relationship."  
  
"Indeed I did. Mr. Fox told you what he observed of their relationship. Unfortunately, he was in error a great deal."  
  
Peter Reynolds nodded his head before continuing, "But Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson did argue, did they not?"  
  
Alfred sighed and responded, "Of course they did Mr. Reynolds. All fathers and sons argue. It is part of the growing up process. That fact alone does not mean that these ridiculous charges against Master Richard and Master Timothy are true. They loved each other very much. Although neither of them were very verbal about their feelings, there was no lack of love between them."  
  
Dick and Tim smiled in pride at Alfred's response. Dick slid his hand across the table and took Tim's in his reassuringly.  
  
"I appreciate your feelings Mr. Pennyworth. I recognize that this situation has to be difficult at best for you. Bruce's death and then Dick's arrest for the murder. Naturally, this is an emotional situation for you. I'm going to try and not keep you on the stand any longer than is absolutely necessary. I know my next few questions are going to be difficult for you, but I have to ask them. Mr. Pennyworth, were these arguments between Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson ever physical?"  
  
Alfred's eyes narrowed as he looked at the man questioning him. "Physical, Sir?"  
  
"Did they ever physically fight each other?"  
  
Tim felt Dick's hand go weak on his and he turned to look at his "older brother". Dick's face had grown pale and he stared straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought. It was clear Dick was upset.  
  
Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Quietly, in no more than a whisper, he replied, "Yes."  
  
"Did you say Yes, Mr. Pennyworth," Reynolds asked raising his voice.  
  
Looking out of eyes, which now seemed old and tired, Alfred replied, "Yes."  
  
Tim's eyes grew wide. "Yes." What did they mean by yes? He'd never seen Dick or Bruce physically fight with each other. Dick had never told him that. It had to be Bat related. Tim knew it was Bat related. But that was something they could never explain.  
  
"Lets be more specific, were punches thrown or are we talking about just slaps?"  
  
Alfred looked down and replied, "Punches sir."  
  
"All fathers and sons don't punch each other, do they?"  
  
"Objection!" Walters yelled.  
  
"Withdrawn. Thank you Mr. Pennyworth, I have nothing further," Reynolds said as he turned and walked back to his table.  
  
Jon Walters stood and announced to the Court, "Your Honor, I believe that Mr. Pennyworth has endured enough today. Since he is on our witness list, we'll reserve our questions until our case in chief."  
  
"Very good Mr. Walters," Maria Vargas replied, "Mr. Pennyworth, you may stand down. Mr. Bailiff, if you would escort the jury to their rooms, we'll recess an hour for lunch."  
  
Alfred walked over to the defense table as people filtered from the room. Once the recess was formal, Dick stood and walked to Alfred who hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, Young Sir, I'm so sorry."  
  
Dick held to Alfred as if his life depended upon it. "It's not your fault, it's ours," he whispered.  
  
Alfred looked Dick squarely in the eyes. "Who do you mean by 'ours'?"  
  
"Bruce and me," he replied in a low soft voice. "Bruce and me."  
  
Alfred pulled the boy back into a comforting hug.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Lucius," Clark's strong voice called out in the courthouse hallway.  
  
Lucius stopped in his tracks and waited.  
  
"Thank you for stopping. I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"About what Mr. Kent," Lucius replied coldly.  
  
Clark noticed he had called him 'Mr. Kent'. That was something he hadn't done since Bruce had first introduced them. "I wanted to let you know that I understand why you think what you do, but you're wrong. Those boys didn't kill Bruce. They wouldn't hurt him."  
  
"Where you listening in there! Did you hear what I said, what Alfred said."  
  
"It's not what it sounds like Lucius. You know Dick."  
  
"I thought I did. Have you seen that videotape? Have you seen how callous they're acting. They've got his blood on them and they're laughing. You can't explain that to me. You were suppose to be his friend. But you're helping and supporting his killer. Good day Mr. Kent."  
  
"I'm helping and supporting his son," Clark said as Lucius walked away. He shook his head. As he turned to walk away, his cell phone rang. "Kent here."  
  
"How's it going?" Lois's voice sweetly sounded in his ear.  
  
"This morning has not been good. I can't see how it could get worse, but I have a feeling it will."  
  
"I saw some of it on CourtWatch."  
  
"Lois, I feel so helpless."  
  
"Not something you're use to, I know. I'm sorry you and Jim didn't find anything to dispute the state's evidence."  
  
"It doesn't make any sense, Lois. I know those boys are innocent. I know it in my soul. But all the evidence points to them and only them. But you know what's the most frustrating thing. It's this nagging feeling that we're all missing something. Something Bruce would see immediately and give us all that annoying look of his that we were all so stupid." Clark took a deep breath. "And I'd love to see that look right now."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Most of the 'family' had chosen to eat in the courthouse cafeteria. The seats were scarce, so they scattered sitting where they could. Roy walked over to Dinah, a tray of food in hand, and sat it down in front of her at the table for two.  
  
"How've you been?"  
  
She looked at him with tired eyes, "Like the rest of us." Then she glanced around the cafeteria and her eyes fell on the table near the opposite wall where Barbara sat with Jim, Alfred and Leslie. "I'm worried about her."  
  
"Yeah." Roy said as he took a bite of his sandwich.  
  
"I'm staying with her right now. I didn't want her staying in the clocktower alone."  
  
"Good."  
  
"You're in a talkative mood. What happened to the famous Harper mouth?" Dinah asked as she saw Donna speaking with Stephanie and Cassandra in the cafeteria line.  
  
"If I talk a lot right now, I'll get myself worked up. If I do that, I'm going to hurt a certain prosecuting attorney. Even I have enough sense to know that's not going to help anything. So I'm NOT saying much."  
  
"I can relate to the feeling," Dinah responded.  
  
"Yeah. That's why we're family," he said as he took another bite of his sandwich.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
They sat alone in the holding cell. They had left their suit jackets in the courtroom. Tim noticed Dick wasn't eating. Granted the peanut butter sandwich's weren't the best he had ever had -- and he wondered how you could mess up peanut butter -- but it was all they were getting and Dick needed to eat.  
  
"Eat."  
  
Dick looked up at Tim, "What?"  
  
"Eat," Tim repeated as he took his sandwich and showed Dick the activity he wished him to engage in.  
  
"I'm not -- "  
  
"Hey, don't start that. You made me eat breakfast Monday. You were right then, the advice is still right now."  
  
Dick tried to smile, but found his mouth wouldn't really comply. He took the sandwich and started eating.  
  
Tim watched Dick as he ate, then tentatively asked, "What was Alfred talking about?"  
  
Dick looked up at Tim, "The fight?"  
  
"Yeah," Tim said as he looked down running his finger around the rim of his cup.  
  
"Happened after Jason died. We ... we were both hurting, said a lot of things we didn't mean. Things got out of hand." Then he looked at Tim and said, "I'm sorry."  
  
"'Bout what?"  
  
"Everything. What happened in there this morning wasn't good. It looks bad. And your dad was right, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for me."  
  
"That's not true Dick. I know things look bad right now. But look, this is the first day of testimony. That's all. We haven't even had a chance to present our case yet."  
  
Dick looked into Tim's eyes. He saw the sincerity there, the belief that things would work out in the end, that justice would prevail. Dick was beginning not to believe that anymore. His hope was beginning to waiver. He looked around him -- the gray steel bars that surrounded them, the metal table and benches bolted to the floor, the peeling paint and graffiti on the gray concrete walls. He didn't want to believe that this was his future -- their future -- but each day it seemed more and more a reality.  
  
He was a flyer. They both were. They couldn't be caged. They needed freedom to breathe. Then again, did it matter? If the state and Peter Reynolds had their way, they wouldn't be breathing anyway.  
  
  
  
to be continued ...  
  
  
  
Author's Note: I have been asked by all of my beta's if the fight between Bruce and Dick was canon as was Bruce's taking Dick's key away from him was  
  
also canon. They both are. Happened in Titans (I don't have the number handy but can find if someone really wants it), as Dick explained a bit above to  
  
Tim -- when Dick came back from Kory's planet where he had been for around 2 months Danny Chase told him about Jason's death. Dick was devastated.  
  
He went to Bruce. Bruce, as we all know, doesn't take pain very well. He was upset Dick hadn't been at the funeral, "People asked about you." The fact  
  
that Dick was off-planet at the time wasn't really getting through to Bruce. They both said a lot of hurtful things to each other and ended up blaming the  
  
other for Jason's death. The fight went from verbal to physical -- Bruce doesn't take pain very well -- When Bruce left, he told Dick to "Leave your key  
  
with Alfred." After Bruce left, Dick sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest crying. If you want good angst, this is a good read. 


	11. A Different Game: Part 3c

A Different Game 3c:  
  
  
  
Walters and Avery looked up from where they were sitting in the attorney-client conference room when Dick and Tim were brought in from the holding cell. "Sit down, boys," Wilson Avery said somberly. The boys exchanged glances and sat down.  
  
"What?" Dick asked, 'now' silently added by his tone.  
  
"Reynolds' next witness will take up the remainder of the afternoon."  
  
"It's his standard Friday afternoon move. He does this in every murder trial," Jon Walters added.  
  
"Does what?" Tim asked, afraid to know the answer, but needing to know at the same time.  
  
Avery continued, "Dr. Chancellor from the Medical Examiner's office will be testifying next. Then Reynolds can send the jury home thinking about the autopsy photos over the weekend."  
  
Dick shook his head as he stood up and walked to the window. Through the barred glass he looked out at his city. A million memories flashed through his mind. Visions of Bruce, and of Batman, flew through his head. His hand pressed against the cool windowpane. Cool. It was September now, Gotham was starting to get cold already. It was hard to believe he and Tim had spent the last part of summer in jail. They had had so many plans. None of them had happened. Time lost was something they could never get back. He sighed and, still looking out on his city, asked, "Autopsy photos?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But...but the body was burned," Tim stated shaking his head. He knew they had taken photographs as part of the autopsy, but he hadn't really thought about the fact that they would show those photos in court.  
  
"Which means the pictures will be very hard to take," Wilson Avery said as he placed his hand on Tim's arm.  
  
"Bruce's autopsy photos," Dick said, softly. "Oh my God."  
  
Jon Walters had walked over to Dick. Placing his hands on Dick's shoulders, he said, "Come on, let's go in. We'll be starting any minute."  
  
Dick turned and started for the door, stopping only to wait for Tim. As Wilson started to open the door, Tim said, "Wait a minute!" All eyes turned toward the young boy. "Do we ... do we have to look at..." He couldn't finish his sentence.  
  
Wilson looked at his too young client and responded, "I'm afraid so, Tim. They'll be slides and enlargements for the jury." Wilson looked into Tim's wide blue eyes and sighed. "I'll give you a legal pad when we reach the table. You can look down or write when the pictures are being shown."  
  
Tim shrugged and nodded his head.  
  
Dick's own emotions were churning inside him. He knew these photographs were not the memories of his father he wanted in his mind. He remembered the last time he and Tim had seen Bruce. They had been enjoying each other, spending time with each other, in the study at the Manor. That afternoon. THAT Friday afternoon. Why had they left?  
  
If only they stayed. Bruce had wanted them to stay -- to patrol Gotham with him -- not that he had actually asked in so many words -- but he knew Bruce had wanted them to stay. But they HAD to go to Bludhaven -- HAD to leave him alone -- to do their own thing -- couldn't change their plans to spend a few extra hours with Bruce. GOD! Bruce had left the office early to meet them at the Manor. He WANTED to spend time with them. BUT they wouldn't change their plans. It was their fault, all their fault.  
  
No. It was HIS fault. It was his idea for Tim to spend the weekend with him. He went to Brentwood to pick him up. Tim hadn't spent time a lot of time patrolling with Bruce. Tim might have been more open to spending a couple more hours with Bruce, if he hadn't been so insistent that they go to Bludhaven. It was all his fault.  
  
Dick avoided making eye contact with his group of supporters as he approached the counsel table. He couldn't have them see the guilt in his eyes. He didn't want to see their love and support. He didn't deserve it. It WAS his fault. He might as well be guilty. He grabbed his suit jacket and put it on. As he started to sit down, a strong hand gripped his shoulder. Dick flinched at the touch. It was so similar. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was Bruce. He needed Bruce.  
  
Clark turned the boy to face him. With his other hand, he lifted Dick's chin, and looked into his eyes. Clark saw that look -- Bruce's look -- the one Bruce got when he blamed himself for everything that was wrong in the world. Why did his son have to be so much like him? Clark sighed. "What's wrong?"  
  
Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing."  
  
Clark looked deep into Dick's eyes, then pulled the boy closer so he could whisper in his ear, "It wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault."  
  
"But --"  
  
"No buts. Understand," Clark said firmly. It wasn't a question, it was an order.  
  
Dick smiled weakly and nodded his head just as the judge reentered the courtroom. Dick turned and stood until the bailiff told them all to be seated. Then, he watched as the jury was herded into the courtroom. He watched as Reynolds called Dr. Karen Chancellor to the stand. Gotham's chief medical examiner was a frail looking woman in her early fifties with wispy blonde hair.  
  
Dick and Tim continued to watch as the district attorney questioned the doctor about her credentials. Tim pulled the legal pad Wilson had given him over to him and scribbled a note. He pushed the pad in front of Dick who looked down at the one word Tim had written: "BORING!!!!" Dick bit his lip to keep from snickering. He looked at Tim and nodded in agreement. Dick was surprised at himself, that he could still find humor in the world.  
  
Their humor soon changed as Reynolds started questioning Chancellor about the particulars of the autopsy.  
  
"Were you able to determine an identity for the body that you examined?" Peter Reynolds asked.  
  
"Yes. My office was able to determine that this was, indeed, the body of Bruce Wayne."  
  
"And how did you make that determination?"  
  
"Through D.N.A. analysis. During the autopsy, we took certain samples from the body -- blood and tissue samples. We contacted Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Mr. Wayne's personal physician, to inquire if she had any samples of Mr. Wayne's D.N.A. which we could use for comparison purposes. Her office was able to provide a blood sample of Mr. Wayne's which we used for comparison purposes. The D.N.A. was a match to a 99.99% degree of certainty."  
  
"And were you able to determine a cause of death for Mr. Wayne?"  
  
"Yes, I was. Mr. Wayne died from multiple stab wounds. Thirty-three to be exact," Dr. Chancellor replied drolly.  
  
"And what type of weapon could have made those wounds?"  
  
"Based upon the depth of penetration, we're talking about a long bladed object. Not something small like a pocket-knife, more like a sword or a large kitchen knife."  
  
"A sword would be consistent with your findings?" Reynolds asked.  
  
"Most definitely. Although the wounds were stabbing, hacking wounds. Like someone was pounding their fist -- only holding a sword or long blade in their fist at the time."  
  
"And the burns on the body, did they contribute to the cause of death?"  
  
"The cause of death were the stab wounds. While it is possible that Mr. Wayne was still alive when his body was set on fire," Dr. Chancellor stated, "the burns and smoke inhalation were not contributing factors to the death."  
  
Dick gripped the arms of his chair as she spoke. He had sat entranced as she spoke describing Bruce's wounds. He had felt the pain. But this last bit of information had been too much. Bruce may have still been alive when -- he felt the bile rising in his throat. He had never imagined -- never thought that -- oh Bruce. He felt like he was going to be sick.  
  
Reynolds continued his examination of the medical examiner. "Doctor, let me show you some enlargements of the autopsy photographs you took and ask you to explain the significance of each to the jury."  
  
Tim's head jerked up and he stared at Reynolds at the mention of the photographs. He had been dreading this part. He pulled his legal pad closer and looked down at the yellow lined paper. He could write -- something -- anything. Anything to keep from looking. He stared at the lines on the paper as he picked up the pen. He listened as Dr. Chancellor described each wound in detail. Tim found he couldn't write, his hand wouldn't cooperate, so he just looked at the black lines on the yellow paper. He turned the pad to it's side and stared at the lines. They were bars staring back at him.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara sighed as she lifted herself onto her bed. The trial was over. At least for the weekend. It had been a hell of a week. She laid back on her pillow and looked at Dick's picture on her bedside table. He has such a wonderful smile. She worried she would never see that smile again. Slowly, she reached out to that photograph. She lifted the frame from the table and pulled it to her, and hugged it tightly to her chest.  
  
Dinah walked into the room and over to the bed. She sat on the side of the bed. "Hon, it'll be --"  
  
"Don't say it Dinah," Babs said with a lump in her throat. "Don't. It's not going to be okay. It's never going to be okay again."  
  
Dinah hated this. She wanted to say something comforting to her friend. She wanted to go break something or someone, because she felt Barbara was right. How could one day of testimony totally destroy their hopes? And it wasn't over yet. That's what they had to keep in mind, it wasn't over yet.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Alfred, why don't you sit down?" Leslie asked as she watched him cleaning her kitchen counters.  
  
"I have been sitting all day. I need to stay busy," he replied.  
  
"Alfred," she sighed, "you need -- "  
  
"No Leslie," he said firmly. "I know you think I to rest. Believe me, I do not. I have to do something to feel useful. Cleaning your kitchen makes me useful."  
  
"You don't have to clean to be useful," she replied.  
  
"I wasn't very useful in court this morning," he said as he stopped rubbing the counter.  
  
Leslie stood from her kitchen table and walked over to him. With a gentle hand, she took his face and turned it towards her. "You did what you had to. Dick understands. Tim too."  
  
"But I don't Leslie. I don't understand why I couldn't have said no."  
  
"Because you and I both know that you couldn't lie. If you could, you wouldn't be the Alfred Pennyworth we all know and love."  
  
"And that fact may have cost our boys their lives. We've already lost Bruce. Can we bear to lose them as well?" he asked through tied eyes.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Tim sat cross legged on his bunk shuffling the deck of cards. He would look up at Dick and then look back down at the cards. Dick was lying on his bunk, his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. "You wanna play something?" Tim asked as he continued to shuffle.  
  
"Not now."  
  
"Okay," Tim said as he started dealing solitaire on his bunk.  
  
A prisoner on the clean-up crew stopped at their cell, a mop in his hand. "You know, you two been ruining everyone else's T.V. Ain't nuthin' else on."  
  
"Sorry for the inconvenience." Dick replied, never looking at the cell door.  
  
Tim turned his eyes toward Dick and snickered as the prisoner moved on grumbling under his breath. Dick involuntarily started laughing along with Tim. Soon they were rolling with laughter. Tim, who had long fell over his face near the foot of his bunk, asked, "What's so funny?"  
  
"Hell if I know Tim," Dick replied holding his aching middle as he tried to sit up. "Nothing and everything. We needed the release."  
  
"Play something with me."  
  
"Okay," Dick said as he moved onto Tim's bunk and picked up the newly discarded deck of cards. "You know, there's got to be a better way to spend a Saturday."  
  
"I know there is," Tim replied as he picked up his cards, his mind thinking of all the things he and Dick could be doing. They could be running through training simulations, practicing and preparing for their nightly flights over the city. So many things they could be doing. "You think we'll be monopolizing the T.V. today? I mean it's Saturday."  
  
Dick looked at Tim, "Afraid you'll miss X-men?"  
  
"I do NOT watch cartoons.," Tim said indignantly.  
  
"Sure ya' don't. Doesn't matter anyway, C-Block doesn't get to the rec room until this afternoon."  
  
"Darn it!"  
  
"Told you."  
  
"I don't watch cartoons."  
  
"Do too."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Too."  
  
"NOT!"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Roy Harper entered the jail through the Visitors' gate and walked to the line at the window. Roy was used to this and he knew that was not a good thing. As he reached the window, he was asked, "Prisoner you're here to see?"  
  
"Richard Grayson."  
  
The guard hit the button on the intercom, "C-Block, bring Grayson to the visitors' room." He handed Roy the log book to sign in and directed him to the door to the visitors room.  
  
Roy waited as the heavy steel door slid open so he could enter. He shoved his hands in his pockets as the door closed behind him. A guard pointed to an empty cubicle and he went and sat waiting for Dick to be brought in.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
A guard came to the cell door, "Grayson, you have a visitor."  
  
"You get more visitors than I do."  
  
Dick looked at Tim as he stood up laying his cards face down on the bunk. "Don't cheat."  
  
"Me?" Tim asked innocently as Dick left the cell.  
  
As Dick entered the prisoner's side of the visitation room, he saw Roy Harper sitting at the first cubicle. He smiled as he walked over. "Hey," he said as he took his seat.  
  
"How are ya' doing, man?"  
  
"Okay. Hey, if I haven't said it before, I wanted to thank you for being here. You and Wally and Donna. It's really meant a lot to me that you'd be here for this. Thanks."  
  
"Robbie, where else would we be. When one of us in trouble, we're all there to help. And that's what we're planning on doing. Helping you and Tim."  
  
"Your support is helping."  
  
Roy rolled his eyes at Dick's comment and with a wide grin said, "We were thinking it might be more helpful to be a little... hands-on."  
  
Dick raised an eyebrow as he looked at Roy and leaned closer to the glass, "What are you talking about?"  
  
Roy leaned closer too, so they could whisper, "Wally and I are getting you two outta here tonight. You tell me when. When's the best time to do this?"  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" Dick asked. "You're talking about a jail break. You can't do this."  
  
"Yes we can," Roy said plainly, "We certainly have the capabilities. And it's not like we haven't gotten people out of tight spots before."  
  
"You're not going to do this. Wally's not going to do this. Donna would have your hides if she knew what you were planning."  
  
"Donna's in agreement with this," Roy said firmly.  
  
Dick's eyes grew wide. "What? What are you thinking? If we were to go along with this crazy plan of yours, Tim and I would look guilty."  
  
"Dammit! Were you in court yesterday? I was. You two already look guilty!" Roy replied with anger in his tone.  
  
Dick sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, Roy, I was there. I know yesterday was bad. But it was just the first day. Tim and I talked last night. We were upset too. But we're innocent. We didn't kill Bruce. And they can't prove we did."  
  
"YES. They. Can. And they're doing a good job of it. And you can't prove you didn't do it! Dick you can't seriously -- "  
  
"Look Roy, you can't do this. I won't let you. The three of you have been in that courtroom everyday last week. It's not like your identities are secret. If Tim and I were to just disappear, you three would be implicated."  
  
"You don't know that for sure, Robbie," Roy countered.  
  
"Forget it, Bowhead, I'm not going to let you do that."  
  
Roy shook his head as he listened to his longtime friend.. "Wake up and smell the blood Robbie: it's yours!" Roy's eyes burned with a fire of determination when he spoke. He leaned closer to the glass, his jaw set, "Robbie, when this trial goes south on you -- and it WILL, dude -- if you WON'T do something then we Titans will. Together. No way are we gonna just sit back and watch these bastards set you up for slaughter."  
  
Watching as Roy left the visitor's room, his voice echoed in Dick's ear, "Wake up and smell the blood Robbie: it's yours!"  
  
  
  
to be continued ... 


	12. A Different Game: Part 3d

A Different Game 3d:  
  
Monday morning, Peter Reynolds continued his prosecution of the State's case against Richard Grayson and Timothy Drake. D.N.A. specialists had testified as to how the comparison of the blood samples were conducted and the results the test had determined. Bludhaven police officers had traveled forty miles north of their regular patrols to testify about the search conducted at Dick Grayson's apartment.  
  
The jury sat almost mesmerized as Reynolds presented testimony after testimony, evidence after evidence, against Dick and Tim. The jury would turn, periodically, toward the defendants and glare at them. Dick and Tim would try and meet the jurors eyes, but couldn't. They had faced down some of the worst psychotic killers Gotham had ever produced, but the glares of the men and women who held their fate in their hands unnerved them in a way they had never experienced before.  
  
Their family and friends sat supportively, but helplessly, behind them as the week wore on. Their nerves and emotions raw. It was Tuesday afternoon when Dick first noticed Helena had appeared in the courtroom. She was sitting on the back row. Alone. He smiled at her and she returned the smile. But she wouldn't join them at the recesses, she wouldn't interfere.  
  
That same afternoon, Peter Reynolds called his primary witness to the stand. Detective Jacobs stood and walked from the prosecution table to the witness stand. He looked at the defendants with contemptuous eyes. They glared back at him. Dick felt his jaw set determinedly as Jacobs started testifying.  
  
After the preliminary questions were over, Reynolds asked Jacobs, "Could you please describe the scene of the alleged crime to the jury?"  
  
Jacobs, turning to look at the jury, began to speak. "When I first entered the residence, I was directed by the uniformed officers already on the scene to the study and outside the study onto the verandah where the remains of the body were. The uniformed officers had extinguished the blaze with the aid of fire department personnel who were also on the scene. Personnel from the coroner's office had arrived as well to handle the transport of the body. I instructed police photographers to take photographs of the body at the scene."  
  
Reynolds approached the stand with photographs in hand. Jacobs identified the photographs as Reynolds' assistants sat up the enlargements for the jury to view them. Dick and Tim exchanged pained glances before looking down at the table top in front of them. Dick looked up at the jury when he heard their gasps of shock. He caught a glimpse of one of the enlargements. These were worse than the sanitized autopsy photos. Dick also caught a glimpse of the jury's faces and the way they turned toward Tim and him. The way the jury looked at them. Dick shook his head back and forth trying to communicate that what they were thinking was wrong. But his gesture fell on now blind eyes. Dick looked toward Tim, the boy hadn't looked up. Dick slid his hand across the table and patted Tim's hand causing the younger boy to look at him. Tim gave him a slight smile.  
  
"What did you do next Detective?"  
  
"I started looking around the study. I was directed by some of the officers to blood stains on the carpet near the fireplace and to two swords that were discarded on the fireplace hearth. The swords came out of a wall mount near the study door. There appeared to be blood on the swords as well."  
  
"Do you know, as a result of your investigation, if stains on the carpet and on the substance on the swords was determined to be blood?"  
  
"Yes. Both substances were determined to be Bruce Wayne's blood."  
  
"The two swords," Reynolds began approaching Jacobs with two large bagged swords, "were you able to retrieve any fingerprints from them?"  
  
"Yes, the first sword," Jacobs began, "had four recoverable prints on it. They were all identified to match fingerprints of Richard Grayson that were on file in the F.B.I.'s index. The second sword had two full prints and a partial print that was later identified as a match with Timothy Drake's fingerprints once Mr. Drake was taken into custody and his prints were ran. He wasn't in the system before this arrest."  
  
"What else did you do at the scene, Detective Jacobs?"  
  
"There was a witness, Mr. Lucius Fox, I interviewed him and he directed me to the security cameras. I watched the tapes with him."  
  
"What did the tapes show?"  
  
"The tapes covered all entrances and exits to the Manor. Unfortunately, there weren't any tapes for the interior of the house. The tapes showed Mr. Wayne's arrival around four in the afternoon. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake arrived and entered the home. All three were identified to me by Mr. Fox. There was no further activity on the tapes until approximately six- thirty when Mr. Grayson and Mr. Drake exited the residence through the garage."  
  
"Permission to play the videotape for the jury, your honor?"  
  
"Granted," Judge Vargas replied. The courtroom lights were dimmed by the bailiffs as Reynolds pushed play on the video cassette player. The courtroom was in a still hush as the tape began showing first Bruce's entry followed by Dick and Tim's. Reynolds fast forwarded through the hours of tapes that showed no one entering or leaving the premises. He stopped, hitting play again, just before Dick and Tim emerged from the house.  
  
Jacobs, who had been allowed to stand down beside of the large screen TV took the remote and hit pause. "These stains," he began pointing at the red marks on their T-shirts and jeans, "are blood stains. Blood that was confirmed to be Bruce Wayne's blood by the D.N.A. tests." He hit the play button again so that the jury could see and hear the rest of the tape. Could hear Dick and Tim's laughter.  
  
Dick leaned over, his elbows on the table, his hands behind his head. God, how he hated that videotape. How he hated the sound of his own laughter. He needed to explain, but he couldn't fully explain. Not without revealing his secret. And he couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that. Bruce had worked too hard to preserve that secret. He would honor Bruce's wishes. They all would. He and Tim had discussed it. Besides, it wouldn't help them -- all that revelation would do would be to trade one prison sentence for another. Change the charges, the sentences would exceed their natural lives. It was a true Catch-22. They were damned and there was nothing they could do about it.  
  
"What did you do next detective?"  
  
"After securing the evidence and crime scene, I continued the investigation. I secured a search warrant under seal for Dick Grayson's apartment in Bludhaven and, under our mutual aid agreement with Bludhaven, requested assistance from the Bludhaven Police Department in the search. I had already secured arrest warrants under seal as well for Dick Grayson and Tim Drake."  
  
"And did you conduct a search of Mr. Grayson's apartment?"  
  
"Yes I did, along with a detective and uniform officers of the Bludhaven Police Department."  
  
"What if anything was found in the apartment?"  
  
"The clothes that the defendants are shown wearing on the tape was found lying on the floor of the bathroom. The blood stains were still apparent, although dried and sticky. Something interesting was found in defendant Grayson's jeans."  
  
"And what was that?" Reynolds asked.  
  
"There was blood on the inside the right front pocket of the jeans."  
  
"Any ideas how blood got there?"  
  
"Yes. We found a piece of a shirt sleeve in Grayson's kitchen garbage can. A white shirt sleeve with the embroidered initials -- BTW -- Bruce Thomas Wayne. There was blood on this sleeve, which was confirmed to be Mr. Wayne's blood. It's highly probable that Grayson stuffed this torn piece of sleeve into his front pocket and forgot about it until he got to his apartment."  
  
Dick sighed deeply. Yeah, Jacobs was right about something. That's exactly what happened.  
  
Jon Walter's stood cross-examining Jacobs. "Now Detective, you said the security tapes covered all entrances and exits to Wayne Manor."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But the security tapes didn't cover the verandah entrance to the study, did it?"  
  
Jacobs looked at Walters, he appeared deep in thought. "I think it did Mr. Walters. I was told it covered every entryway and I believe that was covered."  
  
Jon Walters nodded his head, "Could you the show the jury the tapes showing Mr. Wayne's body being moved from the study onto the verandah?"  
  
Jacobs sighed, "No. We don't have a tape showing that."  
  
"Because there was no security camera covering that entrance."  
  
"I guess not, but the verandah lead out to the back of the property. There was no way anyone could have gotten onto the back of that property without one of the security cameras spotting them."  
  
"You investigated that point, did you?"  
  
"No, but -- "  
  
"Thank you, Detective, you answered my question."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
The lawyers had gone into chambers with the judge. They were discussing how the defense would proceed -- as two separate cases or as a united effort. Those waiting in the courtroom were at ease until the proceedings began again. The bailiff's kept a close and watchful eye on their prisoners, but as they had throughout the trial, they allowed Tim and Dick to mingle with their family and friends. Two bailiff's guarded the back door so no one could enter or leave without permission.  
  
Jack and Dana approached Tim who was pacing near the defense table.  
  
"Honey, are you okay?" Dana asked.  
  
Tim shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Yeah, I guess. Just nervous."  
  
Jack noticed how his son's head was down, looking at the floor. The boy's poor spirits distressed his father. Tim acted as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he was right. At least, the weight of his world was on his shoulders. And Jack was helpless. He was Tim's father. His duty was to protect his child, but he couldn't protect him from this situation. All he could do was lend his support. He was even limited in how he could comfort his son. Jack then got an idea, "I'll be back," he said as he walked toward the door.  
  
Dana put her arm around Tim's shoulder as they watched Jack speak quickly to the bailiff's at the door before he exited.  
  
"Where's Dad going?"  
  
"I don't know honey, but he'll be back."  
  
Jack Drake did return in a few minutes, a cup in his hand. "Tim," he began as he walked to his son who was still talking with Dana. "Come sit on the front row with me."  
  
Tim, his hands still shoved down in his pants pockets moved past the swinging gate that separated the spectators from the trial's participants and joined his father on the bench.  
  
"I've got something for you Timmy," Jack said. "Something that always use to pick you up when you were blue."  
  
Tim looked confused as his father handed him the cup and then pulled a plastic spoon from his pockets. Tim took the lid off the cup and he smiled. It was one of the first real smiled Jack had seen his son have since this ordeal had begun.  
  
"Ice cream! Dad, where did you get ice cream?" Tim asked excitedly as he eagerly took the spoon from his father's hand.  
  
"In the cafeteria downstairs. I thought that might get a smile out of you."  
  
"Dad, you're the greatest!" Tim said as he started eating his ice cream. Tim slightly turned to his side and pulled his legs up on the bench and leaned his shoulder onto his father. He slipped down a bit so that his head could rest on his father's strong arms. Arms that had held him when he was younger. He wished he were younger now.  
  
Jack draped his arm around Tim, pulling him into him closer. He smiled at how fast Tim was eating his ice cream. He laughed when Tim dropped the spoon in the cup, closing one eye and sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek. "Ice burned your mouth. That always happens to you when you eat ice cream too fast."  
  
Tim laughed, "Yeah I know. But I wanted to eat it all before the judge comes in. I didn't want to lose any of it. Man," Tim began with a sigh, "I wish they'd let us stay here during lunch so you could bring us something from the cafeteria. I've almost forgotten what real food tastes like."  
  
"If I could do that, what would you want?" Jack asked as Tim snuggled closer to him.  
  
"Burgers and fries! Lots of fries! Oh and pizza. And tacos."  
  
"All at once?"  
  
"Hey, I'm a growing boy," Tim replied looking up into his father's face.  
  
Jack closed his eyes at Tim's comment. He felt a pain in his chest. He tried to push the evil thoughts, visions, images from his mind. The images that had been haunting his nightmares for more than a month. "Yeah, my boy. My little boy."  
  
Dana turned away from them to wipe her tears.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Walters entered the courtroom alone. He was walking at a fast pace towards Dick who was talking with Wally.  
  
"Dick, come with me now," Walters said as he headed toward the conference room, a sense of urgency in every step.  
  
Dick looked around and shrugged as he got up and followed his attorney. As the bailiff shut the door behind them leaving Walters alone with Dick, he asked, "What's up?"  
  
"We've got a potential problem."  
  
"Problem? We'd better get Tim and Wilson in here too then," Dick said as he turned toward the door.  
  
"That's our problem Dick," Walters said stopping Dick in his tracks. He turned around to face his attorney.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Judge Vargas said we have to present two separate defenses."  
  
.  
  
"But we're saying the same thing!" Dick said confused. "We didn't kill Bruce. It doesn't matter if we work together or separately, the message is the same."  
  
"No, Dick, it is not the same!" Walters exclaimed as he motioned for Dick to take a seat. "There's a thing in the law called arguing in the alternative. While Wilson's main line of defense will mirror ours -- that you're both innocent and that someone else killed your father -- his second argument will be that IF the jury believes that the two of you killed Bruce Wayne, that you're more culpable than Tim. It's his strongest argument against the death penalty for Tim, that and Tim's age. But that argument bolsters the state's case for the death penalty against you."  
  
Dick was shaking his head, "Tim won't go for that. He'll not allow it. He won't let Wilson do that."  
  
"Tim no longer has a choice in the matter." Dick looked into his attorney's eyes, his face showing his confusion. Jon Walters continued, "Judge Vargas ruled that this was a matter of strategy. An attorney does not have to follow his client's instructions on matters of strategy."  
  
"You mean he'll go against Tim's specific wishes in presenting Tim's case?"  
  
"If he thinks he needs to in order to save Tim's life, yes. Dick, I'd do the same thing if I was in his position."  
  
"You're really worried aren't you?" Dick asked.  
  
"Yes. Being completely honest with you, things do not look good. I know you want to testify, but Dick, I'm going to suggest that you don't."  
  
"Jon, I have to. I can't just sit back silently, I've got to do something. I've go to fight this. That jury doesn't know me, doesn't know Tim. We've got to testify so they can see us as more than what Reynolds is painting us to be."  
  
"I understand what you're saying Dick. I agree with a lot of it. But Reynolds is going to tear your apart on the stand."  
  
Dick looked at Walters through determined eyes, "Let him try, Jon. Believe it or not, a lot of people have tried to tear me apart, they haven't succeeded yet."  
  
  
  
To be continued .... 


	13. A Different Game: Part 4a

A Different Game part 4a:  
  
  
  
"I don't care what Mr. Avery or the Judge says, I'm NOT going to let them do that to you," Tim fumed as he paced their small cell.  
  
"Tim, calm down. Wilson's just doing his best to save your life," Dick said.  
  
"I. Don't. Care. He's not going to save me by throwing you to the wolves. I'm NOT going to let that happen."  
  
"Well how are you going to stop it? The judge has already said he can do it over your objection."  
  
"I will stop it," Tim replied determinedly.  
  
"How?"  
  
"I'll stand up in court and tell everyone I killed Bruce and you just helped me try to cover it up."  
  
Dick chuckled, "Well that's going to help us out a lot Tim."  
  
"Well, I can threaten Wilson that I'd do that, so he'll do what I want."  
  
"You tell him you're going to do that and I'll be finishing my trial without you because you'll be in Arkham for a psych eval."  
  
Tim plopped down on his bunk. He moved his hands under his head, lacing his fingers together. He let out a loud sigh. "I'm not going to let them do this to you, I won't."  
  
Dick stood up and moved to Tim's bunk sitting beside the younger boy. "Thanks kid. But you know, I'm more concerned with the verdict than the sentence."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"This is all worry for nothing if we're found not guilty. We only have to worry about this if we're convicted."  
  
"Do you think we'll be convicted Dick?" Tim asked, sitting up.  
  
"I don't know Tim. Everyone seems to think we will, but -- I can't believe it. I can't believe that could happen to us. Things look bad, but only because we haven't been able to explain what really happened -- "  
  
"But we don't know what really happened -- to Bruce. We can explain the tape, the swords, and the blood on the clothes, but we can't explain what happened to Bruce. Dick, I'm -- "  
  
"I know that," Dick began, stopping Tim's thought because he didn't want to hear it, "but we don't have to do that. We just have to make the jury believe us, believe that Bruce was alive when we left the Manor. I think we can do that. We tell the truth."  
  
"And the truth shall set us free. Alfred says that," Tim said thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, are we going to question Alfie?" Dick asked with a smile.  
  
"Not me," Tim replied shaking his head and smiling at his big brother.  
  
  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Walters and Avery had worked in presenting the defenses case. Tim insistence had caused Wilson Avery to change his strategy, at least until he felt he had no other choice. Their family and friends each testified one after the other. Testified as to their character, about their relationship with Bruce -- how it wasn't what Reynold's had tried to make it out to be. Hogan, Mutt, and Chancy had come up from Bludhaven to testify for Dick.  
  
But the attorneys knew this testimony wouldn't win their case for them. They had to explain the state's case away. Had to puncture enough holes in the evidence to create reasonable doubt. The character evidence didn't do this, but the attorneys hoped it would give the jury a sense of who Dick and Tim were so that when the boys testified the jury would believe them. The defense's case rested solely on the believability of the defendants themselves.  
  
Tim was called to the stand first. They were banking on his youthful innocence to bolster their case. Wilson Avery questioned Tim about himself, what he did, what he liked, where he went to school and how his grades were. He questioned him about his friends and his hobbies. And he questioned him about his relationship with Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.  
  
"Bruce was great," Tim replied softly, sadness tingeing his voice. "He was like a second father to me. I ... I spent a lot of time with him. He'd teach me things. He cared about me."  
  
"And Dick Grayson? How was your relationship with him?"  
  
"Dick's the best!" Tim started beaming as he smiled at Dick. "He's the older brother I always wanted but never had. We spend a lot of time together. Hanging out, watching movies, playing ball and other sport stuff. He picks on me and I pick on him. We're brothers in every way that really counts."  
  
"Tim, tell the jury what happened July 27th of this year," Wilson told Tim.  
  
Tim turned to face the jury, to look at the people who held his fate in their hands, and he started recounting the events of that day. "I was at school, at Brentwood. Being a boarding school, we have classes year-round with a couple of weeks off here and there. So, anyway, I had classes that day, but I was excited because I knew Dick was coming to pick me up after class for the weekend. I was going to stay with him for the weekend."  
  
"And did Mr. Grayson pick you up at school?"  
  
"Yea, he did. Dick was there at three. We signed out, grabbed my bags and headed toward Wayne Manor. We got there a little after four. Bruce was already there."  
  
"What did the three of you do?"  
  
"Well, the first thing we did was raid the kitchen. That's what we always did. Alfred wasn't there, he's been staying at Brentwood taking care of me, and he was going to go up state for the weekend while I was in Bludhaven. Anyway, without Alfred there the kitchen wasn't stocked like it is when he's there. Bruce can't cook, can't boil water," Tim said with a slight laugh as he thought about Bruce's culinary abilities. "But we found stuff to eat and we talked about what had been going on in each of our weeks. Then we just hung out together."  
  
"Tim, blood was found on your clothes and your fingerprints were found on a sword that had Bruce Wayne's blood on it. Tell the jury how that happened."  
  
Tim was nervous, his stomach was fluttering, they had to believe him. Looking at the jury, he started, "We, um, we -- Dick and me -- were horsing around while Bruce was at his desk looking at some files. We took the swords from the wall mount and started fencing around the room."  
  
"These were real swords, did you usually play so dangerously?"  
  
"Yea, we did. It was just horsing around. We'd do stuff like that, we didn't think about it being dangerous, it was just stuff we knew how to do. Anyway, we kept messing around and Bruce told us we were getting too loud. Dick said Bruce was being an old grouch because he didn't know how to play. Bruce said he was going to take the swords away. We told him to try it and he got up to come get them. Dick and I were laughing and we jumped up on the back of the sofa. We didn't expect Bruce to do what he did."  
  
"Go on Tim," Wilson said, "What happened next?"  
  
"Bruce kicked the sofa over. Dick and I would have fell if we hadn't jumped in a somersault," Tim said. Then seeing the looks in the jurors eyes, he added, "Dick's family were circus acrobats. That was where I first met Dick, at the circus. Anyway, Dick's taught me some of their moves and that's how we knew how to do the somersaults. Bruce tried to grab the swords from us while we were in the air, we tried to jerk away, and the swords sliced into Bruce's arms as we hit the floor. We didn't mean for that to happen, it was an accident," Tim said, his face full of pain and guilt. "We dropped the swords and the three of us were on the floor. Things were happening so fast, you know, we were trying to stop the bleeding, to make sure he was okay."  
  
"Was Bruce okay, Tim?"  
  
"He was hurt and bleeding, but yea, he was okay. We got the bleeding stopped and he was okay. He was even picking at Dick and me about what happened. We stayed about an hour after that happened. Bruce was fine when we left, sore but fine."  
  
"Did you and Dick kill Bruce?" Wilson asked.  
  
"No," Tim said as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "no we didn't. We wouldn't. Bruce was alive when we left the Manor," Tim replied, his voice cracking with emotion.  
  
"Thank you Tim. Answer Mr. Reynolds' questions."  
  
Tim turned to face Peter Reynolds. He wished he was facing the Joker. Reynolds smiled at him as he stood up and approached the witness stand.  
  
"Mr. Drake," Reynolds began, "You admit to stabbing Mr. Wayne, correct?"  
  
Tim shook his head, "We didn't stab him. He was cut with the swords by accident."  
  
"Accident. Thirty-three times."  
  
"We didn't do that!"  
  
"No, you just accidentally cut him with the swords when you and Mr. Grayson were performing Olympic style gymnastics."  
  
"Objection! Argumentative!" Wilson Avery shouted as he stood.  
  
"Sustained. Mr. Reynolds, just ask questions," Judge Vargas instructed.  
  
"Why don't we talk about something else. Why don't we talk about you, Tim," Reynolds said, "Tell the jury how many times you've ran away."  
  
Tim looked up at Reynolds, "I haven't ran away."  
  
"Well, lets see, there have been times that you've left home or school haven't there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And your father and the school officials didn't approve these trips of yours, did they?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Let's see, you've been to Europe and Florida without permission and stayed for weeks on end without notifying anyone of your whereabouts, correct."  
  
Tim sighed, he couldn't explain, "Yes."  
  
"And you violated federal law and entered Gotham while it was declared 'No Man's Land' and stayed on the streets here for months?"  
  
"Yes," Tim said looking down.  
  
"Now, that was an illegal act, wasn't it?"  
  
Tim looked at Reynolds and sighed, "I guess it was. I wasn't really thinking about that at the time." I was thinking about saving people's lives and helping Bruce reclaim this city while you were probably living comfortably some place else.  
  
"And that's not the only illegal thing you've done is it?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Tim asked incredulously.  
  
"Are you aware that possession a firearm on educational property is a felony?"  
  
Tim's mouth opened, but no sound escaped. He had no idea that Reynolds was going to question him about that. He looked to Dick, and Reynolds struck out like a cobra, "Don't look to Grayson for your answers!" Reynolds yelled as he stepped into Tim's line of sight cutting off his view of Dick. Tim jumped at the ferocity of Reynolds. It was totally unexpected. Reynolds continued before Tim could say anything. "You did have a gun in your room at Brentwood Academy, didn't you?"  
  
Dick Grayson started to stand -- he wasn't thinking -- he was acting -- he wanted to protect Tim. Walters and Avery both grabbed him by his arms pushing him back into his chair, but the jury saw.  
  
Walters shook his head as he leaned over to his client and whispered, "Think about what you're doing. It's the kid's life too -- not just yours-- that you're putting on the line if you do something like you were just about to."  
  
Dick turned to look at his attorney. He was seething, but knew his attorney was right.  
  
"Yea...yes. But --" Tim tried to answer.  
  
"And your father didn't know you had a gun, did he?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And you had Mr. Pennyworth pose as your father to keep you from getting in trouble with the school, didn't you?" Reynolds continued, increasing his pace.  
  
Tim's breathing was heavier, his eyes darting from Reynolds to the jury, "I...yes."  
  
"Now you left the school with Richard Grayson July 27th? He signed you out." Tim nodded his head as Reynolds continued, "But the authorization slip that allowed Richard Grayson to sign you out of school was NOT signed by your father, was it? It was a forgery wasn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Tim said softly.  
  
Dick dropped his head in his hands. This was not how this was supposed to go.  
  
"Dick Grayson's like an older brother to you, right?"  
  
"Yes," Tim said, almost defiantly.  
  
"And you look up to him."  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"And you'd do anything to please him, wouldn't you?"  
  
"I try, I -- "  
  
"Even help him kill his father!"  
  
"No! God, no! We didn't --" Tim started as he turned to face the jury. His voice lower, he continued, "we didn't."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick followed Tim into the courthouse holding cell where they would spend their lunch recess. Tim hadn't said a word since he left the stand. He walked straight to the back wall and placed both hands against the cold concrete. Dick walked over to him, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.  
  
"I messed up, Dick. I messed up so badly," Tim said as a tear rolled down his cheek.  
  
"Hey," Dick said as he turned Tim around to face him, "it's all right Tim. You did your best. You did fine. Everything's fine. "  
  
"No Dick, it's not," he said as he fell against Dick's chest, his arms tightly gripping his brother.  
  
Dick comfortingly stroked the boy's back and tried to calm his fears. But he knew he couldn't, because he shared those fears. Their attorneys had warned them about Reynolds cross-examination of them, but they couldn't have been prepared until they underwent the grueling ordeal. And he knew it wasn't over. His own testimony was scheduled to start immediately after lunch.  
  
"Don't give up Tim. Come on, you know who we are. We don't give up."  
  
Tim looked up at Dick, his face pale and emotionless. He nodded his head. "I'm glad Bruce isn't around to see me, he'd fire me. I'm not exactly acting like Robin, am I?"  
  
"Yeah, you are. We weren't trained for this situation. I wasn't trained for this situation. This is one possibility Bruce never came up with a plan about. But we're not going to worry. We'll be getting out of here soon Tim," Dick said resolved. "We're not staying here."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick had been on the stand constantly since they returned to court from lunch. Reynolds smiled as he stood to cross-examine him. Dick didn't return his smile, but sat stoically, patiently, waiting for Reynolds to strike. Dick was prepared for him.  
  
"You and Mr. Wayne had a tumultuous relationship, didn't you?"  
  
"We had our ups and downs, like every family does."  
  
"You fought?"  
  
"Yes, and yes sometimes we got physical," Dick added cutting Reynolds off at the next question in his progression. "But we're physical people, athletic people. We were always practicing -- boxing, wrestling, fencing, gymnastics -- it was only natural that when things got very heated and very emotional that we'd get physical. It didn't mean we didn't care about each other."  
  
"But you admit that you and your father have punched each other."  
  
"Yea, we did. And I'm not proud of that. It happened at one of the worst times in our relationship. It was right after Jason, my brother, had died. We were both hurting and we lashed out at each other. It wasn't that we really wanted to hurt each other. We wanted to hurt," he stopped himself and thought - he couldn't say that they wanted to hurt the joker -- Jason's death was ruled an "accident" so he couldn't say hurt the ones responsible. Taking a breath, he continued, "someone, anyone, wanted someone to blame for Jason's death. But there was no one to blame. If you've ever lost someone important to you, you could understand how we were feeling."  
  
"You say your brother Jason was important to you, but you didn't attend his funeral did you?"  
  
Dick looked Reynolds squarely in the eyes, "No sir, I didn't. I was ... out of the country ... when Jason died. I was unreachable, Bruce didn't have my number. I didn't know about Jason's death until after the funeral. But I came home as soon as I heard."  
  
"Were you jealous of Jason?"  
  
Dick looked down, "Yes. I'm not proud of that, but yes I was. But I knew how Bruce felt about me, I knew he loved me, but it hurt that he adopted Jason when he hadn't legally adopted me. But we talked about that. He explained that to me. And I understood. Jason and I weren't as close as I wish we were, but he was my brother and we did have a relationship -- a good relationship regardless of what some people seem to think. There was a time that I was -- sick," he said thinking of the time he was under Brother Blood's control, yes that was sick. "Jay came and helped me out. Left and came to help me without Bruce knowing about it, but I told him not to worry about getting in trouble, because Bruce would want him to help me out. Jay's death hurt both Bruce and me. It still hurts. That's one of the reasons I think why I'm so close to Tim. He fills a void, not that he's a replacement, we're like brothers and I care about him because he's Tim, but I needed him in my life."  
  
"Well that's very nice, Mr. Grayson. Is that why you forged his father's signature on an authorization to allow you to sign him out of school?"  
  
"I didn't --"  
  
"You knew his father hadn't authorized you to remove Tim from school."  
  
"Yes," Dick said through gritted teeth.  
  
"In fact, his father knew nothing of your relationship with his son, did he?"  
  
"He knew we know each other."  
  
"As acquaintances only," Reynolds said firmly.  
  
"Yes," Dick conceded. He hated their secrets.  
  
"And on the night of July 27, 2001, did you and Tim Drake 'hit all of Bludhaven's bad spots'?" Reynolds asked quoting from their conversation on the videotape.  
  
Dick sighed. "We didn't mean that the way that sounded. That tape is so out of context."  
  
"Did you and Tim Drake do anything illegal on the night of July 27, 2001? ANYTHING?"  
  
Technically, "Yes," Dick replied. He looked at the jury who glared at him.  
  
"You and Bruce Wayne have had many problems in your relationship, haven't you? Times when you didn't even speak to one another for months or more on end, correct?"  
  
"Yes. We didn't always communicate very well, but it doesn't mean we didn't care, it doesn't mean we didn't love each other. That's just the way it is sometimes -- between fathers and sons. We've been getting along better lately than we have in years. He had just adopted me. I didn't kill my father," Dick said emotion in his voice.  
  
"Yes, he finally adopted you, making you his sole heir."  
  
"Yes"  
  
"And you were resentful that he didn't adopt you sooner, weren't you?"  
  
"No, not really, it just hurt but --"  
  
"You stabbed him with a sword?"  
  
"No --"  
  
"His blood was on your clothes?"  
  
"Yes, but --"  
  
"That's all."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
`All eyes in the courtroom watched as the jury came in and retook their seats. Dick looked back at Barbara who gave him a slight smile which he returned before he turned back toward the judge.  
  
Judge Vargas asked the jury, "Have you reached a verdict?"  
  
"The jury foreman stood, "Yes your honor, we have."  
  
"Will the defendants please rise. Mr. Foreman if you would read the verdicts."  
  
Dick and Tim stood, flanked by their attorneys, eyeing the jury. Their breathing was rapid, their stomachs in knots. Dick's hand clasped Tim's supportively -- united.  
  
The jury foreman started to read from the verdict sheets, "On the charge of aggravated assault, we find the Defendants not guilty."  
  
Dick and Tim both released a sigh of relief. As the looked at each other, wide grins started to form on their faces.  
  
"On the charge of conspiracy to commit aggravated assault, we find the Defendants not guilty. On the charge of felony murder, we find the Defendants not guilty."  
  
"Yes!" Dick whispered as he squeezed Tim's hand. Tim was smiling so wide. Behind them, their supporters shared their smiles.  
  
"On the charge of conspiracy to commit felony murder, we find the Defendants not guilty."  
  
Dick and Tim heard the sighs of relief coming from their family and friends sitting behind them. They turned to smile at them as the foreman continued to read from the verdict sheet.  
  
"On the charge of first degree premeditated murder, we find the Defendants guilty."  
  
Dick stared at Tim. Guilty. The smiles they wore faded. They both started shaking their heads, they couldn't be hearing this. This was impossible. Moans started to rise behind them. Their eyes fell back on jury foreman who kept reading. Their attorneys were whispering in their ears about appealing. About not worrying.  
  
"On the charge of conspiracy to commit first degree premeditated murder, we find the Defendants guilty. On the charge of contributing to the delinquency of a minor, we find the Defendant Grayson, guilty."  
  
Dick felt the room was contracting and expanding around him at the same time. His stomach ached. His breathing was labored. "No," he whispered silently as he felt Tim's hand tightly clutch his own.  
  
The younger boy's breathing went shallow and rapid, then caught in hiccuping spasms.. He shook his head as tears stung his eyes.  
  
The judge asked the jury, "Have you considered sentence recommendations?"  
  
"Yes we have, your Honor. As to Defendant Drake," the foreman began. Dick saw Tim stiffen as they talked about his fate. "We find the aggravating factors submitted by the state to exist. We find the mitigating factors submitted by the defense to exist and to have mitigating value and we therefore recommend a sentence of life in prison without parole."  
  
"No," Tim weakly said between gasped breaths.  
  
"As to Defendant Grayson, we find the aggravating factors submitted by the state to exist. We find the mitigating factors submitted by the defense to exist but not to have mitigating value and we therefore recommend a sentence of death."  
  
Dick heard Tim yell "No!" but even though they stood side by side, it seemed as if Tim's voice was miles away. He could hear sobs behind him. He shook his head. This wasn't possible. It was time to wake up Grayson, it's time to wake up, he kept telling himself. He felt Tim throw his arms around his body but he couldn't move. He heard the judge officially pronouncing sentence on them, but he couldn't move. He heard Jon Walters telling him not to worry that it was twelve to fifteen years before any death sentence was carried out, yet he still didn't move. He heard the quiet sobbing behind him and he still didn't move. It wasn't until the judge's gavel hit the bench adjourning court that he flinched. He flinched. With all his training, he flinched.  
  
Jack Drake stood and started to move around the bar as he had during the recesses, only to find his way blocked by the bailiff. They wouldn't let him pass. Wouldn't let him go to his son. "Tim," he cried out.  
  
Dick pried the boy's arms from around him and turned him toward his father. Jack reached across the railing that separated father and son and pulled Tim into a hug.  
  
Tim tried to be brave. To keep his emotions in check. He was Robin he told himself. Then he realized, he would never be Robin again.  
  
"I love you Timmy," Jack said.  
  
He lost his resolve upon hearing those words from his father. In the safety of his father's arms he broke down as tears fell unbidden from his eyes. "Dad, no, please, no."  
  
Dick turned from the sight he could no longer face. Turned and saw Barbara Gordon. Saw the woman he loved blankly staring ahead, tears falling from her eyes. "No!" he said aloud as he tried to reach her, only to find the guards blocking him as they had Jack Drake. "Babs," he said as he reached his arm across the railing. She took his hand in hers, clutching it as if his life depended upon it.  
  
"We've got to go," a guard proclaimed as he tried to take Dick by the arm.  
  
Dick jerked his arm away, "No, not yet, I have people to see." As he said that, he saw them all -- Alfred, Leslie, Clark, Donna, Roy, Wally, Dinah, Jim. Saw the pain on their faces. It mirrored the pain in his soul. He saw Dana, Cassandra and Stephanie rubbing Tim's back and arms as Jack clutched at the boy.  
  
"Yes, now, Grayson," the guard barked as he grabbed Dick by the arm.  
  
"Dick," Barbara cried out. Dick pulled away from the guard again and leaned over the railing to kiss her. Multiple guards grabbed him by his arms and waist pulling him away -- away from his world -- away from Barbara. But he clutched tightly at her hand as long as he could until their fingers could no longer touch. The pain he experienced as he heard her scream his name made his heart bleed. He saw other guards pulling Tim away from his father and knew the boy felt the same way. It was over. But how could it be over like this?  
  
To be continued ....  
  
  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
  
My beta's asked me about the legal reasoning of the jury and the distinction between felony and first degree murder. The short version is this -- felony murder is what happens when a death occurs during the commission of a felony. In this case -- the aggravated assault. The State does not have to prove there was an intent to kill. Another example would be the convenince store robbery where a customer has a heart attack and dies. The robbers didn't intend to kill the customer, but since the death occurred as part of the felony, the robbers guilty of felony murder. First Degree Premeditated Murder is where the State has to prove that the defendant intended to murder the vistim. In the boys case -- they jury's saying that they don't believe that Dick & Tim were assaulting Bruce and he died as a result of the assault. The jury's saying that they believe Dick and Tim intended to murder Bruce. Which is the worst they could say.  
  
Another question I was given was about Tim's sentence -- life without parole (LWP). There's life & LWP. Plain life means the defendant is generally eligible for parole after 25 years. LWP's it -- final -- not see daylight, stay until you die -- sentence.  
  
The aggravating and mitigating circumstances used were those that I posted in an earlier post. Hope this sorts out the legalease.  
  
Char 


	14. A Different Game: Part 4b

A Different Game 4b  
  
Jim placed his arms around Barbara, trying to quiet her screams as the guards pulled Dick away from her, away from her forever. Jim's heart broke as he watched this scene.  
  
Leslie moved from Alfred's embrace to Barbara and, reached in her medical bag. She pulled out a syringe and injected Barbara's arm. "A sedative, to calm her," she said hoarsely as she looked at Jim Gordon through tear stained eyes. Behind him, she saw Alfred looking after his boys, Clark's strong hands on Alfred's frail shoulders.  
  
Roy held Dinah in his arms not sure who was comforting whom. "This is so wrong," he said. Dinah didn't recognize his tone. She had never heard him sound this way. Dinah nodded her head in agreement.  
  
Jack Drake's hands gripped the rail as he watched his son being pulled to the other side of the courtroom, his eyes never leaving Tim. His vision blurred by his tears. The tightness in his chest was suffocating. He felt Dana's arms wrap around his waist, but it didn't help. He felt so alone.  
  
"Wally," Donna started as tears fell from her eyes, "what are we going to do?"  
  
Wally West pulled Donna to him. "I don't know. I don't know."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
The guards pushed the boys into the conference room and four of them followed Dick and Tim in. They heard the door shut and lock behind the guards.  
  
Tim moved to stand looking out the barred window. Dick moved behind him, "Tim, I --"  
  
"Don'tcha wish, Dick, that this window wasn't barred so we could fly over Gotham one last time."  
  
"Yea, but we don't have our de-cel lines," Dick replied quietly.  
  
"I know," Tim said weakly as he continued to look out the window.  
  
Dick's body flinched for the second time today as he realized what Tim meant. How had he let this happen? How had he let things spiral so far out of control? What could he do now? His mind was reeling. He heard the guards rattling the chains as they laid them out on the table. If they left here now with the guards, they were headed for Blackgate. He was headed for Death Row. Tim would be placed in general population.  
  
General population. Even with Tim's training, he wouldn't be able to protect himself from life in general population long. Dick had to do something. He had to. Bruce had taught him to protect the innocent. Well, he and Tim were the innocent. They had to protect themselves. He grabbed Tim by the shoulders, "Tim, look at me," he said in The Voice.  
  
Tim's head snapped to attention at the tone as Dick continued. "We've been playing a different game. One were we didn't know the rules. It's time we started playing our own game, by our rules."  
  
Tim's eyes grew wide as he realized what Dick meant. As they were called into the middle of the room, Tim caught Dick's hand signals and signaled back. As the guards started to approach, Dick and Tim struck out with lightning speed. As quickly and as quietly as possible, they each took out two guards.  
  
As Dick gently laid the last unconscious guard on the floor, he looked at Tim who still seemed confused. "What now?" Tim asked.  
  
Dick started to stand as he looked over the unconscious guards. He pointed to one and responded, "Strip him Tim and toss the uniform to me." Dick quickly began taking off his own suit. Tim's eyes were wide, but he complied. Dick started putting the uniform on, he had thought the fit was right. As he was doing so, he asked Tim, "You got a T-shirt on under your shirt?"  
  
"Yea," Tim replied.  
  
"Strip down to it and baggy your pants." Dick started rummaging through the other officer's things. A wicked grin formed as he found what he was hoping for. "Here Tim, catch," Dick said as he tossed a pair of dark sunglasses at him. "I need Jack Malone."  
  
Tim grinned as he mussed his hair and cockily put on the shades. He watched as Dick put on the other pair of sunglasses and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "What're they for?"  
  
"You Malone, you're under arrest," Dick said as he approached and started cuffing the boy's hands behind his back. "We're going to walk right out of this courthouse -- past the cops and past the press."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Then we get to the bottom of this."  
  
"Yes!" Tim said as Dick used the guard's keys to open the hall door, no one was near, he took Tim by the arm and very officially began to walk towards the prisoner elevator, using the guard's keys once again to activate it. Dick had been observant of the procedures during these past few weeks. He knew what keys worked what.  
  
On the main level, they walked toward the exit. They saw the hordes of press congested around the door. "Stay calm, Tim,"  
  
"I am calm, already hand cuffed. YOU on the other hand, are a armed and dangerous felon."  
  
"Cute," he whispered as they walked out the door and started down the steps. The press ignored them -- they were waiting for Grayson and Drake to be brought out. The reporters were oblivious to the other officers and prisoners who walked up and down those steps. They heard the reporters talking into their cameras about the trial, the evidence and the verdicts. Tim and Dick didn't look at them, they kept walking and went around the side of a parked transport van.  
  
As the van came between them and the crowds, Dick quickly released Tim's handcuffs and they grabbed the chain link fence and started climbing over. Jumping down on the other side, Dick headed straight for a green Neon that had been parked near the fence every day for the last week. He crouched at the driver's side front tire running his hand under the tire casing. Tim saw him smile as Dick pulled a set of keys out and quickly unlocked the doors. "Get in."  
  
Tim complied and scrambled into the passengers seat. Dick threw the officer's hat into the back seat and sat behind the wheel.  
  
"Do you still know how to drive?" Tim asked in a jocular tone .  
  
"Just like riding a bike," Dick replied as he started the engine. "Now what do I push?" he said with a wicked grin as he pulled away.  
  
"Uh, you realize we just stole a car?" Tim said shaking his head.  
  
"Not really, exactly."  
  
"What'dya mean?" Tim asked as he reached over and cut on the radio. He scanned through the channels until he found music rather than trial updates.  
  
"It's Roy's. His rental anyway. We talked last weekend, he's been parking here everyday since. I've seen him standing here when our van would pull up. It was his way of saying the car'd be here when we needed her."  
  
"You mean Roy wanted to break us out?"  
  
"Yep," Dick said, then hitting the scan button on the radio, "We need to listen to one of the news channel's to see when they discover we're missing. I'm thinking we have fifteen or twenty minutes. Which should be enough time to get half way to Bludhaven."  
  
"But I wanna hear music. I haven't heard any music for two months. They'll break in when they know we're missing."  
  
"Jack," Dick replied with a grin.  
  
Tim slid down in the seat as the car merged onto Highway Sixty-Four and entered the Gotham-Bludhaven corridor.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Clark stood on the curb as he watched Jim Gordon's car drive away. He would go to Barbara's later. How had this happened? He knew the answer to that. If he hadn't known Dick Grayson, he would assume based upon the evidence that he was guilty. But he knew Dick Grayson. Had watched him grow from boy into man. He knew what he was and, more importantly, what he wasn't capable of. How could he let this happen? He sighed deeply. He took the cell phone out of his pocket and started to call Lois when he saw Wally, Donna, and Roy walking toward the parking lot. He couldn't help but hear their conversation. It drew him toward them.  
  
"Wally, we need to get them out of jail before they transport them to Blackgate," Roy was saying.  
  
"I think transport will be the time to move," Donna added.  
  
Wally started to speak, but closed his mouth and stared behind Roy. Roy turned and saw Clark moving closer to them. Roy started shaking his head, his anger rising. Roy moved toward Clark, "Don't think you're gonna stop us. We aren't letting them do this to him. So you can just fly away."  
  
Clark's steely gaze fell upon Roy. His own internal conflict turning his stomach. He respected the law. He believed in the law. But the law hadn't worked in this case. Clark also believed in family. And Dick was family. He firmly placed his hand on Roy's shoulder. "I wasn't planning on stopping you. I think it would be better if Wally and I remove them from custody. Once we get them out of custody, they can do the detective work to clear themselves."  
  
Roy stared at Clark. Then, he smiled a wide smile. "Dude, you ain't as bad as I thought. Come on, I've got some items in the car we might need."  
  
As the foursome walked toward the parking lot, Wally's eyes grew wide as they stopped at the empty parking space. "The car. It's gone."  
  
Roy smiled. "There's a bar around the corner from the courthouse. Let's go. I'm buying."  
  
Wally looked incredulously at Roy, "Dude, your car's gone. It's been stolen!"  
  
"We'll find that out when we get back from the bar. We didn't come this way," Roy said.  
  
Donna and Clark looked at Roy, then glanced at each other. Donna gave Clark a knowing wink. He nodded he understood.  
  
"Roy!" Wally started to whine, "Look, dude, you've got an obligation to the rental company. You gotta report this."  
  
Roy draped his arm around Wally's shoulders as he started moving him toward the bar. "I will -- when we get back -- in a few hours."  
  
"But --"  
  
"Shut up Wally," Donna added, "We'll explain it to you at the bar."  
  
"But Donna! Look, this is a crime. If Roy's not going to report it I am!"  
  
"Shut up Wally," Clark added as he took hold of Wally's other arm, "We don't need to know the car's stolen yet."  
  
"Why?" Wally said when he felt the light go on. "Oh. Oh yeah." Wally smiled as they walked toward the bar.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick took the third exit off Highway Sixty-Four into Bludhaven's warehouse district. The news of their escape flooded the airwaves. Reynolds, Jacobs, and Akins were holding press conferences, vowing to find them, to bring them to "justice", assuring the public of their safety.  
  
"Damn. Like we're dangers to society," Tim said as he shook his head.  
  
"We're considered armed and dangerous felons. Desperate men do desperate things. And we're desperate."  
  
"We're also well trained and can handle ourselves."  
  
"Yep," Dick said with a smile as he pulled the car into one of his warehouse lairs. They got out of the car and Tim followed Dick toward the lockers along the side wall. "I've got clothes, money and ID's here. We can get everything we'll need."  
  
"Cool. Who are we gonna be?"  
  
"Robbie and Jack."  
  
"What?" Tim asked, his eyebrow arched.  
  
"Well, think about it. Who in their right mind would use an alias to hide from the law that has a longer rap sheet than the persona their hiding? No one -- but us --no one would think Robbie and Jack are alias'."  
  
Tim smiled, "I guess."  
  
"'Sides," Dick said slipping into Robbie's accent, "we might need to deal with our people to get information."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara's apartment was eerily silent as Alfred, Leslie and Jim sat there. The telephone started to ring. Three sets of eyes fell on it. Jim finally stood up and moved to pick up the ringing phone. "Hello -- Bullock," he said as he turned to Alfred and Leslie. Alfred had watched until he heard who was on the phone. Then he turned and walked into the kitchen. "She's sleeping. Sedated -- I feel like we're having another wake -- What! When? -- Thanks for the tip."  
  
Jim hung up the phone and quickly moved to the silent television set. They hadn't turned it on because they wanted to avoid the news, but he know now he had to watch.  
  
Leslie watched Jim's movements, which also drew Alfred out of the kitchen.  
  
"Commissioner?" Alfred questioned.  
  
"They've escaped," he replied as he turned on the TV.  
  
Summer Gleason was standing outside the Gotham City Courthouse reporting the breaking news. " -- guilty earlier today. Now Grayson and Drake have escaped custody. Four guards were injured during this escape. The fugitives are considered armed and extremely dangerous. --"  
  
"They're out," Leslie said with a slight smile. "Now we'll know what happened."  
  
"Indeed," Alfred said as he moved to the phone. "I should call Mr. Drake. If he hasn't seen the news, he should be told."  
  
"Escaped?" they heard her groggy voice as she wheeled herself out of her bedroom. "Dick's escaped?"  
  
All eyes fell on Barbara. Her hair was disheveled. She clutched her little Nightwing doll in her arm. Jim moved to his daughter, "Yes Honey, he has."  
  
"I've got to go to the control room. He's going to need me."  
  
Leslie moved closer to Barbara, "You should be asleep from the medication I gave you. You're going to need some help. Dinah will be here soon."  
  
"Dinah as Oracle. Uh-huh," Babs said with a slight giggle as she turned to head to her control room. "Alfred, after you speak to Mr. Drake, can you make me a pot of strong coffee? I'm going to need it. We've got work to do. I've got to contact him."  
  
"I heard that!" Dinah Lance said as she came through the door. "I heard about the escape on the radio. So you haven't heard from them?"  
  
"No. Not yet."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick Grayson was putting the finishing touches on the tattoos that would complete his transformation into Robbie Malone. He looked up and smiled at Jack Malone who was loading the car.  
  
"Make sure ya' get the laptop and the cell phone labeled Robbie's."  
  
"Got them in the car already, bro."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"You gonna call her?"  
  
Dick looked up. His eyes met Tim's. He sighed. "No. No, I'm not. We're not implicating anyone else in what we're doing. Jacobs'll be at Babs with a search warrant looking us before nightfall. He's also probably tapped her phone lines."  
  
"But Oracle can get around any local or fed wiretap."  
  
"I know. But I'm not taking any chances. We're doing this on our own. We only call in the cavalry if we really need them."  
  
"Okay," Tim said, then changing his accent added, "Youse the boss, Robbie."  
  
"Yep. Ready to head back to Gotham?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Let's go. We've got a case to solve."  
  
  
  
To be continued ...  
  
  
  
***AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
Those of you who aren't part of the Bludhaven yahoo group aren't going to be familiar with Robbie and Jack Malone. They are Matches "little boys". Jack is Tim's Malone family ID and makes Alvin Draper look like a choir boy. You'll want to check out my Robbie fics when I post them here: "Robbie Malone" and "It Runs in the Family" for the original Malone family fics. There are a few references in here to come to those.  
  
Char 


	15. A Different Game: Part 4c

A Different Game: Part 4c:  
  
Alfred walked toward Barbara Gordon's apartment in the cool breeze. He saw the gleaming sun as it started to fall behind the skyscrapers of Gotham. It was a breathtaking sight -- normally. But this was not a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. So much had happened this day -- the verdicts and sentences. How his heart had broken when Judge Vargas sentenced Dick to death. Bruce was gone, and the State was taking Dick away as well. He had felt so helpless.  
  
Then they escaped. Escaped. When he heard that news, it was as if the sun had parted through the clouds. He had hope again. Yet, that hope was still tempered with worry. He worried for his boys. Tim and Dick were still in danger -- from the police and from whoever HAD murdered Bruce.  
  
He turned and started up the steps of the Clocktower. Perhaps Miss Barbara had heard from them by now.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"I feel bad about leaving Roy's car in that neighborhood, Dick. It's gonna get stripped."  
  
"I know, but this way, Roy's not implicated in our escape. When we get to the bottom of this, I'll see to it that the rental company gets a check for the car," Dick said as he drove the Nightbird through the streets of Bludhaven. The traffic was thick, it was the evening rush hour -- a perfect place to get lost. "I've been thinking Tim, we missed the obvious."  
  
Tim turned and looked at Dick and saw Robbie Malone. Dick's transformation into Robbie was always amazing. He wore a black T-shirt and dirty jeans. A chain looped from belt loop to belt loop. The stubble Dick had applied look so real, and Tim didn't know how, but when Dick became Robbie, his hair seemed longer. "What'd ya mean?"  
  
"It's been right in front of us the whole time Tim. The video tape."  
  
"I hate that thing. Don't even talk about that."  
  
"Jacobs was right about one thing, the tape proves no one else entered the Manor that night after we left until Lucius got there."  
  
"Lucius didn't kill Bruce," Tim replied sarcastically.  
  
"I know that, twerp. But what we -- you and I -- know is that there IS another way in the Manor. A way that isn't shown on the security cameras."  
  
Tim surveyed the traffic almost at a standstill around him as he thought about what Dick was saying. His eyes grew wide when he realized what they had missed, "The Cave."  
  
"Yep." Dick replied with a slight smile.  
  
Turning to look at Dick, he said, "That means whoever killed Bruce knew he was Batman."  
  
"Exactly. And that's a short list. I've also taken the liberty of eliminating you and me from consideration. We've been accused enough."  
  
"Amen to that. Well, it's safe to say, we're looking into only the baddies who know Bruce is Batman."  
  
"Right, so who's on the short list? Ra's, Talia -- "  
  
"Bane, Shiva, --"  
  
"Hugo Strange, I'm not convinced we fooled him last time. Maybe Slade Wilson, he knows who I am and he's not stupid. It would be easy for him to make the connection, if he hasn't already," Dick continued.  
  
"True, but we're looking people who know how to access the cave," Tim added.  
  
"And these are people who, while they are capable of killing Bruce, wouldn't necessarily want to kill him. In fact, in the past they haven't wanted him dead. They could want us to just think he's dead."  
  
"Are you saying you don't believe Bruce is dead?"  
  
"I dunno. I'm not going to get my hopes up, but it is a possibility."  
  
"But the DNA?"  
  
"That's what we're going to find out. Our first stop is going to be the morgue."  
  
"Could the morgue be our second stop and our first stop be food?" Tim asked.  
  
Dick looked at the boy beside him and smiled. "I hadn't even thought about that. I'm running on adrenaline. We haven't ate since breakfast, have we?"  
  
"Nope. And that was jail food."  
  
Dick's smile widened, "How's about a Biggie Burger Super Combo?"  
  
"With cheese. Go large."  
  
"I'll take the next exit, when I can get to it. There's a Biggie Burgers over on Alden. I use to ride past there on patrol. Besides, there's a Quick Gas across the street, we can fill up there and then get the food."  
  
Bip Bip Bip ... Bip Bip Bip  
  
"What is that?" Dick yelled as he turned to look at Tim. Tim had a sheepish look on his face as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his Young Justice Communicator. "Timmy, I'm gonna smack you! I told you not to bring ANYTHING Oracle could track."  
  
Tim shrugged his shoulders, "Man, I'm sorry! I forgot about it."  
  
"Don't answer -- Damn it Tim!" Dick yelled as Tim opened the channel.  
  
"Well, uh Robin here, I'm kind of busy right now."  
  
"Uh... hi, it's Wonder Girl. Long time no talk to..."  
  
"Yeah, I've been kind of ... well ... unavailable. Gotham's been real hectic lately."  
  
"We know, Tim. We've been watching."  
  
Tim. She called him Tim. She knew, they all knew. They had been watching -- watching the trial! His felt his mouth open, but no sound came out.  
  
Wonder Girl continued, "We're sorry we didn't contact you before to show our support, but the JLA told us contacting you in any way would jeopardize your secret ID, and that would be the LAST thing you wanted. And we didn't want to do anything to get you in more trouble. We just wanted to let you know that we support you, and if there's anything we can do let us know... but we've been listening to Wonder Woman and Superman and not been involved, and we won't be, because we don't want to screw this up for you. That's the last thing we want. But I, we, wanted you to know that we're worried about you and we care for you."  
  
"Thanks. A lot," Tim managed to say as he tried to contain his emotions.  
  
"Be careful," she said as she terminated the connection.  
  
"Gimme that thing. Next time we stop. It's in the trunk," Dick said as he grabbed the communicator from Tim's hand and tossed it in the back seat.  
  
Tim closed his eyes and leaned his back against the head rest. "They're worried about me."  
  
"Because you've been missing?"  
  
"No. They know. They know everything. They wanted to be there for me during the trial, but they couldn't. I wish Mr. Kent had told us that."  
  
Dick looked at the boy beside him and sighed. He realized just how hard it had been for Tim. His friends had been able to be there for him. Having Roy, Wally and Donna there every day lending their support, their friendship and their love had comforted him in a way no one else could have. Tim's hadn't had that. Except for Stephanie and Cassandra, Tim hadn't had anyone. Not even any of his so called friends from school came to visit him. "I'm sorry Tim. I hadn't even realized how this must have been for you. Isolated from your friends."  
  
"It hurt. But I had you," Tim replied with a smile.  
  
"Oh yeah, best cell mate a kid could have, right. Let's get you some food," Dick said with a smile as he took the Alden Street exit.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Any word from the young Masters, Miss Barbara?" Alfred asked as he entered Oracle's control room again. Since his return to Barbara's apartment he kept moving between the kitchen and the control room awaiting some contact from Tim or Dick.  
  
"Not a word Alfred. I'm not sure if I should be worried or furious."  
  
"I'm sure Master Dick has a good reason for not contacting you."  
  
Barbara's computers sounded an alert message before she could respond. "Ah ha, I've got them. Tim used his Young Justice communicator. They're in Bludhaven. Let me have the satellites tell me exactly where they are."  
  
As she worked on her trajectory fields, her computer's alarms started going off. Tapping a few buttons, her eyes grew wide, "Oh damn."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"What kind of drinks do you want with those combos?"  
  
"Zesti."  
  
"For both?"  
  
"Yes," Dick said as his hand tapped his steering wheel impatiently.  
  
"$10.28 at the first window," came the perky voice.  
  
"Food, food, real fast-bad-for-you food. I can't wait," Tim said.  
  
Dick laughed at Tim as he glanced in his rear view mirror at the black car behind them before moving forward. The car had also been at the Quick Gas when they were there. Dick shook off his suspicions as he handed the money to the girl at the window. As he waited for his change, he noticed a silver car drove past the drive through line and circled the building. It wasn't that he was nervous, but he was trying to be aware of his surroundings.  
  
"Thank you. Pull to the next window."  
  
"This is what I've missed," Tim said as he started scanning the radio channels.  
  
"What?"  
  
"A normal life."  
  
"This is normal?"  
  
"Yeah. We're undercover, on a case, grabbing fast food on the move, that's normal for us."  
  
Dick smiled at Tim as he reached over, playfully smacking Tim's head. He drove up to the second window and reached out for the bag of food they had ordered. Dick handed the bag to Tim who reached in grabbing a handful of fries before taking the drinks Dick passed to him. Dick started to pull away.  
  
As his car moved up to turn out of the drive through, a Bludhaven squad car, blue lights flashing, pulled from the front of the building directly in front of the Nightbird. Dick slammed on breaks. His hand reached for the gear stick to put the car in reverse when he noticed the black car behind him move onto his bumper, interior blue lights flashing. The silver car that had circled the building pulling to their side, also complete with flashing blue lights.  
  
They were trapped. Surrounded on all sides.  
  
Tim was breathing heavy, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked around. Then he looked at Dick. Dick's hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. He turned to meet Tim's glance.  
  
"Oh God," Tim moaned.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dick said as he saw the panicked look on Tim's face.  
  
Bludhaven police officers jumped from their cars, guns drawn and pointed at the them.  
  
"Hands on the dash! Where we can see them!" an officer ordered.  
  
They looked at each other and then, slowly, complied as the officers slowly approached the car.  
  
"It can't already be over, Dick," Tim said weakly. "We didn't even get a chance."  
  
  
  
To be continued ...  
  
  
  
*** AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
To see more of Young Justice's Reaction to this story -- go to the Young Justice category and read "A DIFFERENT GAME: THE SIDELINES" 


	16. A Different Game: Part 4d

A Different game: 4d  
  
Hearing the computer alarms going off, Clark had walked into Barbara's control room. He stood near Alfred and they watched as Barbara worked. Clark wanted to ask what was going on. He had asked Alfred who hadn't knownanything -- except that Barbara was upset.  
  
"No!" she cried. Her hands finally going still.  
  
"Barbara?" Clark asked moving closer to her.  
  
"They've been captured," she said without emotion. She sounded numb.  
  
"My word," Alfred said as his hand went to his mouth.  
  
Clark leaned over Barbara's shoulder, "Where?"  
  
"Bludhaven," she said defeated as a tear ran down her cheek.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"It's not over," Dick growled lowly as he watched the armed officers approaching his car. "I won't let it be over."  
  
"If you've got any ideas, now's a good time," Tim replied, his hands resting on the dashboard of the car. He was trying to calm his breathing down as he eyed the many drawn guns pointing at them. His efforts weren't working very well.  
  
Dick's eyes darted from side to side as he watched the officers approaching, then he dropped his head and looked toward the floorboard of the car. "You're Jack Malone until they can prove otherwise. Understand? I'm Robbie and you're Jack. Go with it," Dick said as he looked up to meet Tim's gaze.  
  
The officers opened the doors. Dick and Tim both felt hands grabbing them and pulling them from the car. The officers grabbed Dick by the arm and back of his jacket and threw him onto the hood of the car. Dick looked across the hood of the car, his eyes meeting Tim's. He could tell the boy was nervous. He understood. He was too, but he was determined to get them out of this. Dick steeled himself.  
  
"What the hell's going on?" he asked in his best Jersey Malone accent.  
  
"Spread 'em!" one of the policemen yelled in his ear as he felt his feet being kicked apart. He felt the officers patting him down. He felt the cold steel of the handcuffs clamping down on his wrist. Then his arms being pulled behind him, the handcuffs claiming his other wrist as well.  
  
"Man, what is your friggin' problem? What's this about? Jack and me ain't done nuthin'!" He was acting the part. He had to act the part. No, he had to be the part. He had to be Robbie Malone.  
  
"Shut up Grayson," a plain clothed officer said moving close enough to Dick that he felt his breath on his neck.  
  
"Grayson? Who the hell is that? I'm Robbie -- Malone. That's my brother Jack. We ain't done nuthin'," Robbie yelled, then added, "lately."  
  
"Yeah," Jack said squirming under the weight of the officers pressing down on his, "get off'a me!"  
  
The plain clothed officer turned Robbie around, "You think we don't know who you are?"  
  
"Well since youse is calling me 'Grayson', I guess you don't. I'm Robbie Malone. Check my ID in my wallet."  
  
The officer pulled the wallet out of Robbie's back pocket and looked through it. Driver's license, social security card, credit cards, car registration -- all in the name of Robert Malone. And a probabtion/parole card. Pulling that card out and holding it in front of Robbie's face, he asked, "What's this?"  
  
"What? Probation officer's card. Don't call that jerk, he'll try to put me in jail and I ain't done nuthin' this time. You cops are going psycho on us. We just got outta jail, we don't wanna go back."  
  
"What's the kid's ID say?" the plain clothed officer asked across the car.  
  
"Jack Malone," a uniformed officer responded.  
  
Tossing Robbie's identification across the car to the uniformed officer, the officer holding Robbie said, "Call in a wants and warrants check on these two, I'm going to my car and have them patch me in to probation and see if I can get this guys so-called probation officer."  
  
"Aw man, don't call that jerk. Come on!" Robbie yelled as he watched the plain clothed officer walking to his car. He turned to face Tim, their eyes locked. He tried to convey confidence with a slight smile. Tim tried to return it, but he found he couldn't.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
New alarms started sounding on the computer. Barbara looked up, a smile started to form on her face. "Maybe it's not over yet."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They're running a warrants check on Robbie and Jack Malone."  
  
"Who's that?" Clark asked confused.  
  
"Matches' little boys. Dick and Tim's underworld identities," she replied.  
  
Clark smiled when he realized what was going on, "So they've convinced the police enough to check."  
  
"Yep. We're not home free yet, but there's still a chance. If we can just keep them from taking them into the station," Barbara said as her fingers were flying over the keyboards. "There, rap sheets on the Malone boys have just been received on the on-board computers."  
  
"Blackgate?" Clark asked reading the information that filled the screen.  
  
"Master Dick infiltrated Blackgate last year as Robbie Malone," Alfred added as he moved closer to the computer console, "therefore there are actually photographs of Master Dick's 'Robbie' persona in the system."  
  
Barbara pulled a headset on, "Gotham City Probabtion/Parole Office, how may I direct your call?" she asked.  
  
Clark smiled as he watched this performance before him. He knew Bruce and his people were well organized, but he never had any idea they were this detailed. It was as if they did have separate lives.  
  
"One moment please," Barbara said as she put the intercepted call on hold. "Clark, I need you to play Robbie's probation officer. This is a role set up for Bruce, you'll have to fill in. Your name's Andy Horton."  
  
"What do I say? I don't know --"  
  
"Watch the screen. Everything's going to be there," Barbara said as she handed him another headset. "Sound frazzled, you're an overworked state employee."  
  
"Frazzled I can sound," Clark said as he watched Barbara flip a switch and point at him, "Horton here."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick and Tim had been moved to the trunk of the car while the officers were running their searches on them. Tim leaned over and whispered, "Think they'll buy who we are?"  
  
"Yeah," Dick said. None of these officers knew him, they shouldn't have any problems, if Barbara was manning her computer that was. And he was sure she was.  
  
"Maybe you should've called her," Tim said.  
  
Dick glared at Tim. "Don't start."  
  
Amy Rohrback pulled up in her squad car and got out. "Miller, what's up? I heard you had my ex-rookie," she asked glancing at the two suspects in custody. She could only see their backs.  
  
Miller threw his hand up silencing her as he continued to speak into his radio communicator.  
  
Dick looked around as he and Tim leaned against the trunk of the Nightbird. His eyes grew wide when he saw Amy Rohrback standing near Officer Miller. "Oh shit," he said under his breath.  
  
Tim looked at him, "What? What!"  
  
"Amy," he whispered.  
  
Tim's eyes widened, "Oh God. We're dead."  
  
"I'm dead, you have a long life ahead of you, a very long life."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Mr. Horton, I'm Officer Miller, Bludhaven P.D. I have a suspect in custody who claims to be one of your probationers."  
  
"Who?" Clark asked as he was reading the file on Robbie Malone that filled Barbara's screen.  
  
"Robbie Malone."  
  
"What's he done now?" Clark said with a loud sigh.  
  
"We've got guy claiming to be Robbie Malone and a kid who says he's his brother --"  
  
"Jack, sixteen year old, lot of attitude?"  
  
"Sounds like him. We thought we had Grayson and Drake."  
  
"Whoa, the Malone's are about the same age as those two, but I don't think Grayson and Drake would pose as the Malone brothers. No one would pose as one of the Malone's. I'm sure running their prints would verify who you have."  
  
"Do you have any warrants out on them currently?"  
  
Clark looked at Barbara's screen, "No, they're out on bail for gunrunning and breaking and entering, their usual stuff. They run with a gang -- the Vicelords. Bludhaven's a little out of their territory."  
  
"Have a photo of these two?" Officer Miller asked.  
  
Clark looked at Barbara, who nodded her head. He watched the screen and followed Barbara's script. "I have a file photo of Robbie, from Blackgate, and, let me look in my file, yes, I do have a file photo of Jack Malone too. Known criminal associates, you know."  
  
"Could you send me copies of those over the DCIC system?" Miller asked.  
  
"Yes," Clark responded as he watched Barbara nodding her head. "I'll also send you the descriptive information sheet, it lists Robbie's tattoos, or at least some of them, he may have gotten new ones since we filled this out last, that boy likes a tattoo parlor."  
  
"Thanks, all of that would help us figure out who we actually have here."  
  
Clark smiled as he read Barbara's latest line for him, "Well, if you have two guys with a lot of mouth, I'd say you have the Malones."  
  
Miller thanked him for his cooperation and the connection terminated. Clark removed his headset as he saw Barbara sending off the mug shots and forms.  
  
"You gave an academy award winning performance," Barbara said as she wheeled around to look at him. "Let's hope all of this was successful."  
  
"Every bit of that was illegal, wasn't it?" Clark asked solemnly.  
  
Barbara twisted her mouth, "Well, lets just say it was for the greater good and not think about it too hard. Oh, welcome to the Bat clan, you will receive your official membership card in the mail."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"Miller?" Amy questioned.  
  
"Horton's sending mug shots of the Malones over the system," he said as he sat in the front of the car watching the screen of the on-board computers. "Thought I did have your partner, Rohrback, but it looks like I have some guys named Malone. They look a lot like Grayson and Drake though. Since you're here, why don't you give me a verification."  
  
"Pleased too," Amy said as they headed toward the suspects.  
  
Dick watched Amy and Miller started walking from the unmarked patrol car toward them. His mind was racing, trying to come up with an escape plan. None of his ideas ended good. "Can you get out of those handcuffs?" he whispered leaning close to Tim.  
  
"If I have to, I could. Why?"  
  
"I'll cause a distraction, you get away."  
  
"Are you crazy. We'd be shot," Tim replied.  
  
"I'll keep their attention on me. You just promise me that you'll get away."  
  
Tim's eyes grew wide as he looked at Dick. "No. I know what you're planning, I won't let you."  
  
"Getting one of us out of this situation is better than none."  
  
"No. Unacceptable," Tim replied, sounding very much like Batman.  
  
Miller and Rohrback reached the two prisoners, "Well, Rohrback," Miller began, "this your ex-partner?"  
  
Amy Rohrback looked into the eyes of the young man handcuffed before her. His blue eyes staring at her impassively.  
  
"Well, Rohrback?"  
  
"No, this isn't Grayson. My ex-Rookie's a lot cuter than this perp. And not nearly as skeevy."  
  
Dick continued to stare at Amy. He wasn't exactly comprehending what was happening. He knew she recognized him. But she was letting them go? Tim felt himself start to breath again. But was it still too soon to hope?  
  
"You sure this ain't Grayson?" Miller asked her.  
  
"Yea, this isn't him. Sorry, your bust is a bust."  
  
The officers removed the handcuffs from Dick and Tim. The officers handed their wallets back to the boys. Miller looked at them and said, "You two can go."  
  
Dick and Tim turned and started for the car when they heard Amy say, "Are you letting them go just like that?"  
  
"I thought you said --"  
  
"Hold it Malone," Amy called out.  
  
Dick froze in place. What was she doing? He looked to Tim, the boy was too pale. How much more could he take, could either of them take?  
  
Amy walked in front of him, "This your car?"  
  
"Yes,"  
  
"Well, Miller and the boys might see fit to let you go, but not me. I'm giving you a ticket for this window tint violation." She started writing the ticket. Ripping it from her book, she handed the pink citation form to 'Robbie'. "You do bear some resemblance to my ex-Rookie, so I'd be more careful in the future, if I were you. Some cops in Gotham and the 'Haven might just shoot first and ask questions later."  
  
Dick looked deeply at his partner. He wanted to smile, but knew he couldn't. He took the pink citation form from her. "Yeah, we will be," he said as he quickly mouthed 'Thank You." and got back in his car, throwing the ticket in the back seat. Tim was already in the passenger seat. Dick turned the ignition and left the parking area, pulling back on the Highway headed toward Gotham.  
  
"You okay, bro?" he asked the boy next to him.  
  
"I...yeah," Tim said weakly. He picked up his Zesti and took a sip. It was watery where the ice had melted, but he didn't care. "Dick, do me a favor?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't speed. I can't handle us getting another ticket right now." Then, he faked a clutch at his chest, and with a grin said, "I'm too young for heart problems."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"It worked," Barbara stated with a smile. "They've released them."  
  
"Yes," Clark said as he continued to look over Barbara's shoulders.  
  
"Thank goodness," Alfred added. "I shall go and tell the others."  
  
"Thanks Alfred," Barbara said. She turned and watched her communicator light. He should be calling her any minute now.  
  
"He's lucky," Clark said as she sat on the corner of her console.  
  
"Yes, that was a close call," she replied with a sigh as she removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  
  
"No, I didn't mean the escape. I mean he's lucky to have you."  
  
"If he doesn't call me soon, you might want to rethink that," she said with a smile.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick woke up to the beeping alarm. He had set the Nightbird's internal alarm for 1:00 a.m., giving them four hours to sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck. It was stiff from sleeping in the car. He looked over at Tim who was starting to stir. He watched and smiled at the boy yawning before him.  
  
"You okay, slugger?"  
  
"Yep," Tim replied as he went into another yawn.  
  
Dick laughed at him. "Good, we've got a lot of work to do," he said as he started the car's engine and drove out of the parking lot of Gotham City's airport.  
  
Tim looked at the digital clock as he stretched as much as he could in the passenger seat of the car. "You were right about us getting some rest before going to the Morgue. I really needed it."  
  
"We both did. We've been up for fifteen grueling, emotionally draining, hours. This has got to be one of the worst days in both of our lives. But we're gonna change things."  
  
"What if ... what if we don't find anything, Dick. What if nothing changes? What do we do then?"  
  
Dick looked at the road in front of him. He didn't want to look at Tim. This was a question he didn't want to think about. He sighed before he answered, "Well, I guess Robbie and Jack move to L.A."  
  
Tim groaned and sank further into his seat.  
  
"When we get to the morgue, I'll get the D.N.A. samples, I want you to get the employee log and security videos."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
As they sat at a red light, Dick picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. "Hey -- Fine -- look that's not what I called about. I need your help. Meet me at 3:00 a.m. at --"  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Tim stood back as Dick approached the headstone. He watched as Dick rubbed his hands across the carved letters spelling "Bruce Wayne".  
  
"Dude, you called," Roy said as he and Wally approached.  
  
Dick turned at glared at them before he spoke, "Wally, I said I needed YOU! Not everyone."  
  
"Dick, Roy's not everyone, he's not even anyone."  
  
"Hey!" Roy shouted.  
  
"Will you lower the volume. We're trying to keep a low profile. On the run you know," Tim added.  
  
Wally walked closer to Dick, "Look, Roy was with me when you called."  
  
"Yeah, and I wasn't about to let fleet feet come alone. C'mere," he said as he pulled Dick into a hug. "You okay?"  
  
Dick smiled, "Yeah. Had a close call earlier."  
  
Wally hugged Dick too, "Yeah, we heard. If you don't call Barbara soon, though, you won't have to worry about the State trying to kill you."  
  
Tim smiled slightly as he watched the three friends together.  
  
Roy noticed and walked over to him, throwing his arm around Tim's shoulder, "And how about my little designated driver, how are you holding up?"  
  
A wide grin formed as Tim remembered their trip last spring. "I'm doing better."  
  
"So, Robbie, you wanna tell us what you need my help for?" Wally asked.  
  
Dick's features grew solemn. "I need your speed to ... dig up Bruce's grave."  
  
  
  
To be continued ...  
  
  
  
***AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
Roy's "D.D." comment to Tim is a reference to my fic "Roadtrip" at the Bludhaven Tahoo Group and soon to be posted to ff.net 


	17. A Different Game: Part 5a

NOTE: denotes when characters are speaking in Spanish.  
  
A Different Game: 5a  
  
"Eww, Robbie, man, you want me to do what?"  
  
"You heard me. I need you to dig up Bruce's grave. Tim and I could do it, but with the time it would take us we'd probably get caught."  
  
"Dude, this is sick," Roy interjected. "This is grave robbing."  
  
"This is necessary," Dick replied steely, his blue eyes hard and resolved. Picking up the shovel that was leaning against the tombstone, he handed it to Wally.  
  
Wally sighed. There was no use arguing. Dick was right. He was always right. He started digging. Seconds later, he stopped. He was finished. He pulled himself up from the grave, wiping the dirt from his clothes. He walked over to Dick who took the shovel from his hands. "Are you sure you wanna --"  
  
"You and Roy take Tim over there," Dick said as he pointed to a tree about twenty yards away from the now open grave.  
  
"What'd ya mean 'take Tim over there'? I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here and helping you," Tim said as Roy grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him away.  
  
Dick took the outstretched shovel from Wally and silently jumped down into the grave. He landed on top of the elegant mahogany coffin.  
  
Wally walked over and grabbed Tim's other arm, helping Roy pull the struggling younger boy away. Tim was struggling against the two Titans who held fast to their duty to their leader. "Lemme go, I gotta -- gotta help him! He can't do this alone!" Wally and Roy silently held the struggling boy until he grew still.  
  
Dick rubbed his hand reverently across the lid of the coffin. With a deep sigh, he took the shovel and broke the lock. He pulled his evidence collecting kit out of his jacket pocket. He wanted to have everything ready before he opened the lid. Pulling a surgical mask out of his back pocket, he put it on. Steeling himself, he opened the lid. Moving quickly he gathered the evidence that he needed to run the tests.  
  
Putting away the collected evidence, he closed the lid. After taking a moment to compose himself, he pulled himself up from the grave. Roy, Wally and Tim started walking to him as they saw him emerge. Tim moved ahead of the other two, in almost a jog, to reach Dick. He noticed how pale Dick was.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.  
  
Dick silently handed the evidence kit to Tim and started walking away. He handed the shovel to Wally as he continued walking. He held his hand up in the all stop position as he saw Wally and Roy opening their mouths to speak. He kept walking. Roy started to follow him, but he waved him off as he moved away.  
  
Tim moved to Wally and Roy. "He's not okay."  
  
"He needs some alone time," Roy responded as he put his arm around Tim's shoulder. They turned around to watch Wally fill in the grave.  
  
Dick walked past the tree, further into the dark cemetery, until he was sure he was alone. Then he fell to his knees, he retched. The bile burned his throat as it came up. He continued vomiting until he was sure there was nothing left in his system to come up. His mind knew it was only a few minutes, but it felt like years.  
  
He berated himself mentally. He was a professional, he should be able to handle this. But ... but this was different. That was his father. Or at least, it may be. They said it was. He prayed it wasn't. If that was Bruce, or what was left of Bruce, he would never get that image from his mind. It would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Bruce didn't deserve that. Bruce didn't deserve any of what they claimed had happened to him. God, please let them be wrong.  
  
Dick pushed himself up with his arms. They felt so weak. He sat in the damp grass, wiping his mouth with his hand and rubbing his hand in the grass. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself. But the tears came unbidden to his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a secured number.  
  
"Oracle," he heard in his ear.  
  
"Babs," he cried weakly.  
  
"Dick?" she asked, knowing it was him. "Where are you? Are you okay? You sound upset?"  
  
"Babs, I ... needed to talk to you. Needed you. Babs, please tell me Bruce isn't dead. Please," his voice pleaded with her. He sounded like a child, like the little boy she used to baby-sit.  
  
"Dick, what's ... where are you?"  
  
"The cemetery. Babs, I ... I love you," he said as he wiped his tears with his hand.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Entering the Batcave later that morning, Dick started running a D.N.A. spectrograph while Tim watched the morgue's surveillance videos. The batmobile roared into its parking spot. Dick and Tim turned as Batman emerged from the car. Dick's breath caught in his throat for a moment, until Jean-Paul pulled the cowl off.  
  
"Mes amis, I am glad to see you both."  
  
"Thanks," Tim said with a smile as he turned around to finish his task.  
  
Jean-Paul walked towards Dick. "And you. D.N.A. analysis?" he asked seeing what Dick was working on.  
  
"Just double checking the results," Dick replied. As he continued to watch the spectrograph, he added, "Thanks for filling in for him."  
  
"My pleasure. I am filling in for you as well. This is your right, I am just holding things in place until you can assume the duties."  
  
Dick smiled slightly, "Thanks."  
  
Tim continued to study the videos, when he saw someone who caught his eye. "Enhance sector UL123 times twenty." He studied the face before him and started hitting keys on the computer running a search.  
  
"Do you think the D.N.A. results were tampered with? Dr. Thompkins ran a separate test --"  
  
"With what the morgue supplied her," Dick added.  
  
"But how could the samples be contaminated?" Jean-Paul inquired.  
  
Within a few minutes, the computer found a match. The blond man in the morgue wearing an orderly's uniform matched the criminal, whose real name was unknown, called "The Bird." He was a known associate of Bane's.  
  
"I think I know! Dick, come here!" Tim shouted excitedly.  
  
Dick and Jean-Paul both headed toward the batcomputer. Dick's eyes narrowed as he grew closer to the computer. "Bane," escaped his lips.  
  
"That's what I'm thinking since bird-boy here's one of his pals. If it turns out the D.N.A. was doctored, we've got a suspect."  
  
"And Bane knows who Bruce really is," Dick added.  
  
"As well as how to enter the Manor through the cave," Jean-Paul said joining in.  
  
"Call Barbara, have her see if she can locate Bane or any of his associates in the city or any records as to whether they were in the city in late July," Dick ordered as he headed back to the spectrograph which had started beeping. He held his breath as he waited for the results of the test to appear on the screen.  
  
"NEGATIVE" flashed on the screen. The test was negative. The body in the grave was NOT Bruce's.  
  
Dick felt his eyes brim with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and offered a silent prayer of thanks. Dick knew this didn't mean Bruce was safe, or even alive. He knew enough to not get his hopes up, but at least, now, he could hope again.  
  
"It's not Bruce. The body in the grave isn't Bruce," he announced as he walked to the Batcomputer.  
  
Tim and Jean-Paul turned to face him. A wide smile grew on Tim's face as he leapt from his chair and ran to Dick. He threw his arms around Dick in a tight hug. Dick hugged the boy back.  
  
Barbara's face on the screen smiled at them. "Hey, I think I have something. A private plane left Gotham July 28 heading toward Mexico. This plane never landed in Mexico however. Seems it refueled in San Antonio and landed in Santa Prisca."  
  
"That's where Bane's from. We're going to Santa Prisca, " Dick replied.  
  
"Dick, Tim," Barbara began tentatively, tears in her eyes, "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Sorry about what babe?" Dick asked.  
  
"That we didn't find this. That we didn't see this. We failed you."  
  
Dick's face grew solemn as he approached the computer console. "No you didn't. You, Jean-Paul, Cass, Dinah, Clark, your Dad, you all did the best you could. But with the D.N.A. tests saying the body was Bruce's it was hard to figure out what was going on."  
  
"Look at how quickly you two have figured it out," she replied.  
  
"Hey, we haven't figured anything out yet. Just that the body in the grave isn't Bruce's. Doesn't mean that Bruce is okay. And there may be a connection with Bane."  
  
"So, how are you planning on going to Santa Prisca?" Barbara asked.  
  
"On a plane," Dick replied with a wide grin.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick and Tim slept the day away in their rooms in the Batcave. When darkness came, they started moving. They had taken all the equipment with them that they felt they may have needed. Leaving the Nightbird in the cave, they 'appropriated' one of Bruce's SUV's and headed off toward the Gotham City Airport. They pulled near the private hanger housing Bruce Wayne's private jet. The jet that was actually the BatWing.  
  
"Well, Jackie boy," Dick started in his best Robbie Malone accent, "are ya ready to commit your first federal offense?"  
  
Tim looked at Dick with a wide grin, "Might as well, I've already been sentenced to life, it's not like they can sentence me to any more time."  
  
Staying in the shadows, they quickly approached the plane and climbed aboard. Checking the instruments, Dick saw that the plane was fully fueled and ready for take off. Sitting in the pilot's seat, Dick started readying the plane for take-off.  
  
Tim watched out the window, working as look-out. "Guards are coming," he said.  
  
"Figures. We can't get a break," Dick muttered under his breath. He hit the keys automatically locking the plane. "Sit down and put your seat belt on," Dick ordered. "Oracle, can you act as radar control tower for us?"  
  
"Hunk wonder, I'm here to serve," she replied. "Looks like you're clear for take-off from runway three. And I'll make sure no one else gets clearance for that area."  
  
"Remind me, that I owe you, when we get outta this."  
  
"Oh, don't worry Short Pants, I'm keeping a tab and I intend to collect."  
  
His grin grew wide, "I can't wait to pay ya, Red."  
  
Tim made a face, "Geez, you two, why don't you wait till you have a room. Kid on board ya know."  
  
The guards were trying to reach the plane, their guns drawn, when Dick started pulling away from the hanger. They were shouting at the plane and even fired a few shots, but the plane was on the move. He was a little under fourteen hours short of finding some answers. Nothing, short of Superman, was stopping that plane. And Dick knew Superman wasn't going to be stopping him.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
They walked through the streets of Santa Prisca, visiting the different taverns, cantinas, and haciendas looking for any clues they could find. They weren't finding any. They stopped in a little tavern near the constabulary to order lunch. A young girl, in her early twenties, with long black hair falling down her back, waited on them.  
  
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked them.  
  
"No, thanks," Dick replied, then thinking about it a minute asked, "unless you could answer a few questions. We're looking some friends."  
  
"Americans, like yourself?"  
  
"Not all," Dick responded pulling out the photographs of Bane and the Bird, as well as a photograph of Bruce.  
  
"I've seen him," she said pointing to the Bird. "He and a very large man entered the constabulary's office over a month ago. He ate here."  
  
"Was anyone else with them?" Tim asked.  
  
"They had a prisoner with them. I assumed they were bounty hunters."  
  
"Prisoner? Did you get a good look at him?"  
  
"No, it was very dark, very late. I was leaving work. He seemed to be injured."  
  
"How long ago was this?" Tim asked, holding his breath for the answer.  
  
"Two or three months ago. In the summer."  
  
Dick looked at the girl, "Would the prisoner still be at the constabulary's?"  
  
"No. All prisoners are transferred to Pena Duro prison. They transfer prisoners every Friday."  
  
"Thank you," Dick replied and handed the girl an American hundred dollar bill.  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other, hope in their eyes. "Well, bro," Tim began, "What do we do now?"  
  
"We break into Pena Duro," he replied with a wide grin.  
  
To be continued ... 


	18. A Different Game: Part 5 b

A Different Game: 5b:  
  
  
  
" It's a prison, getting in won't be a problem. Getting out's the tricky part," Dick said. "That's why I'm hoping you can help me with the info I asked for."  
  
"Sorry Short Pants," Barbara said. Her voice trickling through via the communicator in the Batwing, "Pena Duro was originally a Spanish fortress built in 1639. There aren't any 'plans' on-line that I can send you."  
  
"That's okay, Babs. It was worth a shot."  
  
"What do you plan to do?" she asked, worry in her voice.  
  
"Bruce may be in there, we're going in," Dick said determinedly.  
  
"Need I remind you that IF Bruce is in there, he's been there since about the beginning of August and hasn't been able to escape yet. What makes you think you two will have any better chance in getting out IF you do manage to get in?"  
  
"Yeah Dick," Tim added, "What makes you think that?"  
  
"Because I won't accept any other option," he responded as he glared at Tim.  
  
"Why don't you just let me send Superman in? You know he's willing to help," Barbara asked.  
  
"I know he is. And he's great. He's been great through everything," Dick said with a sigh. "But I don't know that Bruce is in there. It's just a hunch, a suspicion. If Superman were to bust into another country's prison for a "jail break" and Bruce isn't there ... Well ... that's just the type of international incident 'President' Luthor's been looking for to go after him. No, Tim and I are doing this. We have to. I have to."  
  
Barbara looked at him, understanding in her eyes. "And that's why you don't want Nightwing and Robin going in either. Just be careful, okay?"  
  
"I will, promise. Don't worry, Red, we're going in prepared," Dick replied with a wide grin.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Silently, Tim and Dick crept into the constabulary's office of Camiri, past the sleeping guards and into the cellblock. They had heard two young Americans had been arrested and sentenced to Pena Duro for stealing horses. In an Agrarian culture such as Santa Prisca, horse theft equaled a life sentence. Dick assumed that these two young men wouldn't mind trading places with them. Quietly, Dick picked the lock on the cell door and they entered the cell.  
  
Placing their hands over the mouths of the other two young men, Dick whispered, "Don't make a sound. We're here to help." The two prisoners looked wide-eyed at the two dark figures. "You two want to get out of here and go back to the States," Dick said.  
  
The two prisoners nodded their heads .  
  
Tim placed his finger to his lips. "Shh, just listen to us, okay?" he said as he and Dick took their hands from covering the two prisoners' mouths. "Here's some money and the keys to a jeep outside. Take it and leave Santa Prisca."  
  
"Why?" asked one of the confused prisoners.  
  
"Let's just say, we need you two out of here."  
  
"They'll be looking us," the other prisoner added.  
  
"No they won't. We're taking your place. They won't notice the difference. The guards are paid by the number of prisoners they deliver," Dick replied.  
  
"Why would you want to go to Pena Duro?" asked the first prisoner. "They say hell's easier than that place."  
  
"Never mind that. Do you want of here or not?" Dick asked in a low voice.  
  
"Out!" the two prisoners whispered in unison as one took the money and the other took the keys.  
  
Tim showed them out of the constabulary's office to ensure they didn't wake any of the guards and returned to the cellblock. Once in, he shut the door and, using his lock pick, relocked the door. He moved and sat beside Dick on the cell floor. The cells weren't like the ones they had gotten use to at the Gotham City Jail. It was just a room with a barred door and a small barred window. No furniture of any kind. Just two moth- eaten blankets on the floor.  
  
"You think Pena Duro's going to be better than this?" Tim asked.  
  
"Worse," Dick replied.  
  
Tim looked at Dick, "Maybe Blackgate wouldn't be so bad after all." Dick glared at the young boy. "Well, I uh, guess it wouldn't be that good for you, toasty and all."  
  
"Shut Up. Sleep," Dick commanded.  
  
"Er... yeah... I'll be shutting up and sleeping now. Don't mind me."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Guards entered their cell early the next morning ordering them outside. There were eight prisoners, counting Dick and Tim, who were being transferred to Pena Duro. The armed guards shackled their hands and feet and moved them out of the constabulary's office. There was a wide uncovered truck in front of the building. The guards ordered them to start boarding in the back. Four guards with rifles boarded the open bed of the truck after the last prisoners.  
  
"Sit down," a guard barked at them.  
  
Dick and Tim, along with the other prisoners, complied. They rested their hands on their knees. As they passed by the cantina, Dick made eye contact with the young girl who had waited on them there. He saw the confused and sad look on her face as she shook her head. Breaking from his gaze, she turned and entered the cantina.  
  
"I bet she wonders what we've done in the last two days to end up headed to Pena Duro," Dick whispered to Tim.  
  
"Yeah. So do I."  
  
"Shut up," Dick said lightly, rolling his eyes at his 'little brother'.  
  
The prison was two hours away from the town they had been in. The only scenery they had was Santa Prisca's rural farmlands, occasionally they would pass a farmer. Only once did they pass another truck. It was an isolated area. The sun was hot and beat heavily down on them in the uncovered truck as it drove down the dusty dirt road toward Pena Duro. Although it was early November, temperatures in this part of Santa Prista could reach ninety degrees or more by noon.  
  
The guards were drinking water, but none of the prisoners had been offered any on the way. Tim looked across the flat bed of the truck at the guard who was drinking water from a canteen. The guard saw the young boy watching him and moved the canteen toward Tim. Tim reached out to take the canteen, but the guard pulled it away laughing.  
  
Dick's eyes narrowed as he glared at the guard. He would love to stop the guy's laughter. Then he looked down at Tim. 'Maybe, I should've come alone,' Dick thought to himself. Tim looked up at him with a slight smile right as the truck hit a large pothole in the road. Tim grabbed Dick's arm as the truck lurched. Dick used his feet to try and steady them. It was hard, manacled as he was, but he succeeded.  
  
The truck stopped at an angle across the road. The guards jumped down and started inspecting the truck for damages.  
  
"You okay, kid?" Dick asked concerned as he shifted on the truck bed, trying to get in a comfortable position. Or as comfortable as he could be.  
  
"Yeah. I'm more thirsty and sweaty than shaken up from this roller coaster ride. It's so hot."  
  
"I know," Dick replied as he brushed away that lock of hair that always fell in his face. It was damp with sweat.  
  
One of the prisoners jumped up and over the side of the truck in a futile attempt to escape. It happened so fast, Dick and Tim almost couldn't believe it was real. A guard aimed the rifle and fired. The prisoner fell dead.  
  
Tim turned his face into Dick's shoulder, "They didn't even warn him. Didn't even say stop."  
  
"I know," Dick said weakly, not wanting to voice the fear that was now eating at their souls.  
  
The guards finished inspecting the truck, then went and grabbed the body. The guards threw the dead man onto the truck, so that his body lay between the other prisoners. The guards climbed aboard the truck and they resumed the trek to Pena Duro. Tim and Dick stared at the dead man laying at their feet, remembering what they had been told about Pena Duro. 'Hell's easier than that place.'  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Pena Duro wasn't like an American prison. Barbara had been right, it was an old Spanish fortress. After entering the massive gates to the prison, they were placed in a large cell with forty or so other prisoners. Like the constabulary's jail in Camiri, this cell was empty of furnishings. It was dimly lit, however, here they didn't even get the moth eaten blankets. It was like the dungeons seen on old movies. The other prisoners had a hardness in their eyes, and absolutely no spark of hope. As Dick and Tim walked through the cell, they looked at the men who stood or sat or huddled on the floor, hoping to find Bruce. But they didn't see him. Dick directed Tim to a back corner of the cell. With their backs to the wall, they sat down side by side, and looked out at their dreary surroundings.  
  
"Tomorrow, we'll have more access to the rest of the prison and we can look for Bruce," Dick said softly to Tim.  
  
"This place is worse than I imagined Dick," Tim replied as he stared at his surroundings. There was an odor that filled the room. It had almost made Tim retch.  
  
"Yeah," Dick replied, as he saw a rat run past his foot.  
  
"I can't believe Bruce's been here for months. I can't imagine anyone being here that long."  
  
"Some of these men have been here for years, and they will be when we leave. Most men live the rest of their lives here once they enter those gates. That's what Bane had planned for Bruce."  
  
"But you know, he's tried to escape, he's had to. We know him. We know what he'd do, and what he can do. Dick, what if -- "  
  
"Not now Tim," Dick said in a pained voice, stopping the boy from finishing his thought. It was a thought they both shared, but Dick wasn't ready to hear it voiced. Not yet. "Why don't we try and get some sleep? We're going to need our strength."  
  
"I don't know if I can sleep in here Dick."  
  
"I know," Dick replied. He imagined how Tim felt. Remembered the first time he had been in a place such as this. It was Brother Blood's dungeon at his compound. Dick remembered the tortures he endured while there and now prayed to God that Tim would never have to suffer such agony. "Just sit quietly and meditate. Don't think about where we are." They heard a prisoner on the far side of the cell cry out in pain. Dick noticed Tim jump. Putting his arm around Tim's shoulder, he pulled the boy even closer to him. "Try to block it out. Rest. We need our strength."  
  
Tim nodded his head as he shut his eyes, attempting to block out his surroundings. By shutting his eyes, he could block out the sights, but not the sounds and smells. If he could sleep, he could dream. And in his dreams, he and Bruce and Dick would be in Gotham.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
They moved silently in the darkness of the cell. Standing near the new pair, they watched them sleeping. They were both young. The younger of the two slept against the older, his head resting on the older boy's chest. Yes, the younger boy would do nicely. Quickly they grabbed him by both ankles and pulled, yanking him into a circle of other prisoners.  
  
"Dick!" Tim cried out, as he desperately tried to grab Dick's leg, but just missed. There was nothing on the barren floor for him to grab to stop himself from being pulled off. He knew what they wanted. Hands were already grabbing him, touching him. He had to think fast. He knew he needed help. "Dick!"  
  
Dick awoke to chaos. He tried to stand, but was kicked backwards into the wall.  
  
"Stay down. They want the boy."  
  
"They can go to hell!" Dick growled as he kicked upwards. Spinning on his hands, he pushed himself up. He heard Tim calling for him. Two prisoners grabbed Dick as he lunged forward. He used their weight against them, throwing them both into the wall. He dove into the crowd in an attempt to rescue Tim.  
  
When he first saw Tim, the prisoners still had the boy by both legs. Tim used this against them by spinning his body and twisting his legs. He landed face down, but quickly rolled and sprang up in a fighting stance. He wished he had his bo staff.  
  
Instantly, Dick was at his side. Shoulder to shoulder, they started fighting through the throng of advancing prisoners.  
  
"We are WAY outnumbered here, bro," Tim called out as he kicked one guy in the jaw.  
  
"Only about twenty to one. We can handle that," Dick called back, punching one prisoner in the face and ducking another prisoners attempt to hit him from behind.  
  
"Stop! they heard the guards yelling as they made their way toward the center of the commotion.  
  
Slowly, Tim and Dick backed toward each other, until they backs touched. They were still in the ready position to fight. The approaching guards reached out at hit them with electric cattle prods.  
  
Dick gritted his teeth as he jumped back, pulling Tim with him. He put his hands in the defensive position toward the guards, who kept advancing on them until he and Tim were backed against the wall. Dick and Tim's breathing was heavy, as their eyes darted from around the cell. "Senor, please, we were just trying to protect ourselves."  
  
"No, they tried to rob us," another prisoner said. "They started this."  
  
"They grabbed me, were pulling me into the center of the cell to -- Agh," Tim yelled as they hit him with the cattle prod again.  
  
Dick grabbed Tim by the arm and pulled him behind him so that he was between Dick and the wall. The other prisoners kept pointing at them, blaming them, accusing them.  
  
"Take them to the Cavidad Obscuro!" the Captain of the guards barked as he walked up.  
  
"The what? Dick, what's that?"  
  
"A place we can't be," Dick replied.  
  
"Let the other American teach them our rules, if he still lives."  
  
Tim and Dick looked at each other, their eyes wide. The OTHER American. Could it be? Dick signaled Tim not to fight with the guards, to go along. For now. Dick took Tim by the arm, guiding the boy behind the guards as they were led through the cell. Other prisoners hit at them as they moved through. They tried to block the blows. The guards didn't, but would poke Dick and Tim with the cattle prods.  
  
Once outside the cell, the guards led them down the dark corridors. They could tell they were going deeper and deeper into the fortress prison. The Cavidad Obscuro was a place of forgetting, many medieval castles and fortresses in Europe had these. Once there, a prisoner could forget all hope, because he was forgotten by all the world. Pena Duro's Cavidad Obscuro was below sea level. Dick remembered reading in Bruce's case files, this was where Bane had been kept for almost the first forty years of his life. It had protected Bane as a child from the other prisoners. Dick, now knew all too well, why. Later, Bane was just forgotten, until needed for the expiraments that resulted in Venom.  
  
Dick was sure this is where Bruce would be.  
  
Dick pulled Tim as close to him as he could as they were being led toward this most feared place in Pena Duro. "We take out the guards when they open it up. If Bruce is here, this is it. This is our only chance," he whispered.  
  
Tim nodded his understanding as a guard pushed Dick into Tim.  
  
"No talking!"  
  
"I was just telling my brother not to worry," Dick replied.  
  
"Tell him to worry," the guard replied.  
  
Suddenly, the guards in front of them stopped. Tim looked around the room. There was nothing but stone. No windows, no doors other than the entry they had just emerged from. Where was the --- his eyes grew wide as the Captain of the Guards kneeled in the center of the room. Removing a key, he turned a lock in what seemed to be a pattern in the flooring. Tim and Dick watched as the Captain twisted the tile key to the mechanism. Then the other guards used a bar to pull the center stones from the floor.  
  
The guards behind them pushed Dick and Tim toward the precipice. They looked down into the all-encompassing darkness. There was no way to tell how deep the cavern was or how far the drop to the bottom was.  
  
"Throw them in," the Captain of the Guard ordered.  
  
  
  
To be continued ... 


	19. A Different Game: Part 5c

A Different Game: Part 5c  
  
"Now Tim!" Dick yelled, as he and Tim turned from the precipice. With lightning reflexes, he and Tim struck. The unsuspecting guards were quickly taken out. Moving to one of the now unconscious guards, Dick took his flashlight, shining it down into the Cavidad Obscuro. It was still too dark to see. "Bruce!" Dick shouted into the darkness. He heard nothing but his own voice echoing.  
  
Remembering some rope he saw outside the entryway to the chamber, Tim ran out to get it. Upon his return, Tim quickly secured one end of the rope to the round stone covering and threw the other end of the rope into the black hole. "One of us has to go down there. See if Bruce is there."  
  
Dick nodded in agreement. He put the flashlight in his back jeans pocket, and grabbed the rope. He climbed down into the Cavidad Obscuro. He took out the flashlight and started looking around. The bottom of the cavern wasn't very wide. Sitting on the far side of the small area was a large man. His head hung down. His hair and beard were black. Dick wasn't even sure if the man was breathing. He didn't look up as Dick approached him. Dick crouched down and tentatively whispered, "Bruce?"  
  
The man slowly raised his head and squinted his blue eyes as he tried to determine if he recognized the young man before him.  
  
Dick felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked the man in the eyes. "Bruce," he said, his voice so full of emotion. "It's ... I ... you're ... " Dick felt tears stinging his eyes.  
  
The man before him stared at Dick. Then slowly, tentatively, he reached out to touch Dick on the face. "Di-ick," Bruce said hoarsely. "Is it really ... no ... another ... hallucination."  
  
Bruce started to look back down, when Dick grabbed his hand. "No. I'm real. We're both real. Tim and I are here. We've come to take you home."  
  
"Said ... said you were ... dead. You and ... Tim. That he ... had -- "  
  
"Who did? Bane?" Dick growled as he mentioned Bane's name. "He lied. We're both fine. We're all fine."  
  
"What ... took you ... so long?"  
  
"What took US so long? What're YOU still doing here, oh mighty escape artist?" Dick replied with a grin. Then his tone becoming more serious, he said, "It's really a long story. I'll tell you all about it on the way back to Gotham. Let's get out of here."  
  
"Leg ... broke. Twice. Not ... set."  
  
Dick nodded his head. He knew what he had to do. He started for the rope and stopped. Going back to Bruce, Dick pulled him into a hug. Tentatively, Bruce placed his arms around his son and hugged him back.  
  
"Tim," Dick shouted. "I need you down here."  
  
Quickly, Tim climbed down the rope. He saw Dick and he saw Bruce. He smiled and ran to Bruce. Falling on his knees, he clutched at him. "You're alive."  
  
Dick smiled at them, but he knew, as much as they wanted a family reunion, they still had work to do. They had to escape Pena Duro. "His leg's broken. Badly. Help me move him closer to the rope," Dick ordered, as he and Tim lifted Bruce by the arms and moved him. They could tell in lifting him that he had lost a lot of weight. Bruce let out a moan of pain. "Tim, I'm going up. Tie the rope securely around Bruce and help him stand, and I'll pull him up."  
  
"Okay. And then I'll come up."  
  
"Well, we're not leaving without you," Dick said with a wink as he started up the rope.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Bane and his companion walked into the cantina in Camari. The man known as the Bird headed toward the back table. Sitting down, they both scanned the room.  
  
"The younger vigilantes escaped the American authorities. Perhaps we should have simply killed them," Bane said as he watched the young waitress heading toward their table.  
  
"But you were correct when you said that would bring all of the heroes searching for the Batman, not just those from Gotham."  
  
"May I help you?" the girl asked, her long black hair flowing down her back. She looked at the smaller of the two men. She recognized him. And she remembered the two young men who had asked about him, they had said they were friends of his. They had seemed nice. Much nicer than their friends who sat here now seemed to be.  
  
And now those two young men were in Pena Duro prison. She shuddered at the thought. It had weighed on her mind, since she saw them on the prison transport. They had not seemed the type to end up there. Did these men know what had happened to their friends? "You had friends here looking for you," she started. "I was sorry about what happened to them."  
  
"Friends," the Bird asked as he looked at Bane, concerned because he knew someone was looking him. "What friends?"  
  
"Two young Americans. Both very handsome. Very young."  
  
"One in his twenties and another a boy? Dark hair, blue eyes?" Bane asked in a gruff voice.  
  
"Yes," she replied.  
  
"What happened to them that you are sorry about?" Bane continued questioning the girl.  
  
"They were sent to Pena Duro this morning. I do not know what they did."  
  
"Bring us two tequilas," Bane said. After the girl walked away, he looked the Bird squarely in the eyes. "So, Nightwing and Robin are in Pena Duro. They are more resourceful than I have given them credit for being. Perhaps they are also worthy adversaries? In any event, they must be dealt with. Prepared, they just may escape Pena Duro. I suggest we start looking for their transportation out of the country. They will come to us."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Bruce noticed the still unconscious guards as he sat down on the floor. He watched as Dick threw the rope back down to Tim. Once they were all together up top, they took the rope and used it, along with one of the guards' cattle prods, to tie Bruce's leg in a makeshift splint. Dick and Tim got on each side of Bruce, to help steady him, and started down the dark corridor. Dick tried to remember the way out. He was trying to come up with a plan to get into the courtyard and through the massive outer gates. Bruce's injury was going to make it harder.  
  
They could hear guards behind them, and increased their pace as much as they could. Dick hit the comm link in his ear. Static. They were too far down, he couldn't contact Babs because of the stone walls. They were on their own.  
  
"This way," Dick said as they reached the head of a 'T' shaped corridor. At the end of the corridor was a heavy metal door. Tim held on to Bruce as Dick pulled at the door. After it opened and they went through, they looked down on an arena -- prisoners were fighting for the enjoyment of the spectators who sat around the outer walls encircling the area. A steel cage protecting the spectators from the fighters.  
  
They started down the spiraling corridor leading toward the arena.  
  
"Shouldn't we be going up?" Tim asked.  
  
"The guards are right behind us bro, we need a distraction."  
  
"The fights," Bruce stated, understanding what Dick had in mind. Bruce could almost smile, but for his pain, as he felt great pride for his son. Despite overwhelming odds, Dick was still determined to take them home.  
  
They heard the door slamming shut behind them. Dick, Tim and Bruce continued heading toward the arena. Reaching a barred door, Dick looked to Tim.  
  
"I'd guess this is how the prisoners get into the arena. Wanna crack the door, bro?"  
  
Tim grinned as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his mini- torch. Quickly, he set about burning though the lock.  
  
A half-smile formed on Bruce's face, "How did you get that in here?"  
  
"Easy, no one searched us. Guess they thought coming from a jail, we'd been searched," Dick replied, then added sardonically. "Either that, or they just didn't care if the prisoners smuggled goods in. They just weren't expecting Bat goods."  
  
"You two are getting pretty good."  
  
"Well, it's the training, " Tim said as he pushed the door open. "We have a pretty good teacher."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Roy Harper nervously paced through Barbara Gordon's apartment. "Any word yet?"  
  
"No, Roy," Barbara replied exasperated at his question. It was the same one she had heard for two days. It was the same one she kept asking herself in her mind. And hearing Roy's vocalization of it wasn't helping ease her worry.  
  
"Damn," he replied as he continued pacing.  
  
Dinah came through the front door, Chinese take out in hand. "Jacobs is still outside," she reported. Walking into the kitchen, she watched Roy pacing through the room. "Roy Harper, if you wear a hole in that carpet, you are personally replacing it. Now sit down," Dinah ordered as Clark started pulling the take-out from the bags.  
  
Roy stopped where he stood, staring at Dinah. "Yes, mother."  
  
Barbara giggled as she headed back into her control room. Even through everything, she could still giggle. That was something, wasn't it?  
  
Turning to her controls, she flipped a switch and watched as her perimeter cameras caught sight of Detective Jacobs. He had been staking out her building for over a week now, along with several other officers at his direction. Had procured a warrant to tap her telephone lines. Barbara wasn't suppose to know that, but Oracle did. She smiled at him even as she shook her head. In this cat and mouse game, the mouse thought he was the cat. Still, he could pose a problem, later on. But they would deal with it then.  
  
Clark entered Oracle's control room. "Dinner's on the table. Do you want to come out and eat with us?" He looked at the monitor that seemed to hold her attention. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Why don't you come on? Jacobs isn't going anywhere, and we'll hear the signal WHEN they send it."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick and Tim, with Bruce between them, entered the chamber where the prisoners awaited their turn in the arena. They saw men stretching and preparing for the deadly games. A few of these men turned to look at the three new prisoners, while others continued their preparations.  
  
"Why are these two here? A boy and cripple. They can't fight in the games," a fighter asked pointing at Tim and Bruce.  
  
Dick's eyes narrowed. "They're with me." He moved to the other barred door which looked into the arena. He could see four prisoners fighting. His eyes scanned the area, quickly surveying his surroundings. On the far side of the arena was a large wooden door with a metal center bar. "Where does that door go?"  
  
The fighter looked out to the door Dick pointed at and laughed. "To the central courtyard. But you'll never get the door open."  
  
"What if I could?"  
  
The fighter continued to laugh at him. "Could what?"  
  
"What if I could open that door? Would you be interested? Would all of you be interested?"  
  
"Escaping? Attempting to escape Pena Duro means death."  
  
"Fighting out there could also mean death," Dick stated with determination.  
  
A second fighter moved closer, interested in what Dick was saying. "Even if we get into the courtyard, there is still the main gate. How do you plan to get that open?"  
  
"I have a way. But I'll need a distraction. The guards will have to be kept away from us," Dick replied pointing to Bruce and Tim.  
  
The second fighter looked at the other men in the room. Dick had all of their attention at this point. "If he can do as he says, we should help him. Pena Duro is a death sentence for all of us anyway." The other prisoners agreed. Then the second fighter turned to Dick, "But if you fail, I will kill you myself."  
  
Dick's cold blue eyes firmly looked at the fighter and held his gaze. "I'll go out with the next group of fighters. Tim, you deal with this lock after the guards relock the door. Then everyone storm the area. Tim, your main job in the field is to protect Bruce."  
  
"Gotcha Dick," Tim replied.  
  
"I don't need -- "  
  
"Don't you argue, Dick's in charge right now," Tim stated then added under Bruce's glare, " -- uh -- Sir."  
  
"Stop giving the kid a hard time, Bruce," Dick said without even looking at them. He didn't have to, he knew what Bruce was doing. He had done it to him enough. It made him smile as he thought about those times.  
  
Bruce's eyes softened and he ruffled Tim's hair. Tim grinned back at him.  
  
The door opened and the guards looked in "Next group, out!"  
  
The two fighters who had been speaking with Dick, along with another fighter and Dick. Dick heard the guards lock the door behind them. He and the three fighters moved to the center of the arena and started to fight. They had to make it look real. Of course, the way the third fighter hit him, it felt real. They parried and thrust at each other around and around the arena.  
  
Tim had his mini-torch working on the lock. The other prisoners crowded around him as he worked. "Got it! Everybody ready to go?" Tim asked as he swung the barred door open. The prisoners rushed into the arena, they attacked the guards. Bruce, leaning on Tim, headed for Dick.  
  
Dick pulled a few smoke bomb pellets from his pocket throwing them to the ground causing more confusion than before. Quickly, his arm was around Bruce's waist, on the opposite side as Tim, and together they moved toward the large wooden door. Reaching the door, Tim pulled two small pellet grenades from his back pocket. Pulling the tab that released the quick setting contact cement, he strategically slammed the pellets on the door. Quickly, he moved to the side wall near the door beside Dick and Bruce. The grenades only had five second delay fuses. The door blew. They rushed through the gaping hole and into the courtyard, quickly followed by other prisoners and guards.  
  
Once in the courtyard, guards started shooting at the prisoners. Dick and Tim, with Bruce in tow, were dodging bullets and guards as they headed toward the large gates. The guards in the perimeter towers were shooting down on them as other guards following them shot at the prisoners as well.  
  
"How many more grenades do you have Tim?"  
  
"Four."  
  
"With mine, that makes ten. Bruce, do you think that'll take the gate?"  
  
Bruce looked at the large gate. Originally wooden, it had been reinforced with steel. A concussion blast grenade would easily take the gate, he wasn't sure if the pellets had enough charge. But it was all the hope they had. "Yes," he growled forcing himself to believe it would work. It had to work.  
  
Dick and Tim moved him against the wall, "Watch yourself," Dick said as he and Tim headed toward the gate. Bruce saw a bullets striking the ground, causing a plume of dirt to rise on the ground trailing Dick. He watched as Dick jumped and flipped, avoiding another round of bullets. Tim fell to the ground and rolled doing the same. Reaching the gate, they set the charges and ran back to Bruce at their top speed.  
  
The explosion rocked the very ground. Dick used his body as a shield trying to protect Bruce and Tim from the blast.  
  
"Dick, are you alright?" Bruce asked.  
  
"Yeah," Dick replied. "Lets get outta here," he said with a wide grin as he saw the now broken gate laying in shambles on the ground.  
  
They rushed the opening, along with other prisoners. The guards were shooting. Seeing prisoners dropping around them, they ran, but they managed to evade the bullets and make it into the thick underbrush.  
  
"Cone on, we've got the Humvee stashed about a twenty yards from here. That'll take us to the Batwing and that'll take us home."  
  
"You boys came prepared," Bruce said as they headed toward the Humvee step by excruciating step. His leg burned with pain.  
  
"We were bat scouts," Tim said with a grin.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara jumped as she heard her communications channel beep. Clark leaned over her shoulder as she answered her hail. "Oracle here."  
  
"Hey babe, it's me. We're out of Pena Duro and headed toward the plane."  
  
"We meaning?"  
  
"Bruce, Tim and me," Dick said happily.  
  
"Bruce is there? He's alive! And alright?" Barbara called back. Then Dick heard her shouting into her apartment "They've got Bruce, he's alive!"  
  
Dick couldn't help but smile. He heard the commotion and multitude of voices in the background. Sounded like everyone was at Barbara's.  
  
"Dick, someone here wants to speak to Bruce," Barbara said.  
  
Dick switched on the Humvee's speakers. "Ok, he can hear, go ahead."  
  
"Master Bruce," Alfred said tentatively.  
  
"Alfred ... good to hear your voice," Bruce replied weakly.  
  
"Good to hear yours too, son," he replied, his voice cracking with emotion. "I ... I never thought I would hear your voice again, young man." His heart soared hearing Bruce's voice, but he worried at the tone he heard. The scratchiness, the weakness, it wasn't the voice he was used to. He wouldn't be fully satisfied until he actually saw him.  
  
"I've missed you too."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
As the Humvee neared the plane, Dick touched the controls which opened the cargo section of the plane. He drove the Humvee into the cargo hold. After they emerged from the vehicle, they headed toward the passenger section of the plane. As Tim sat Bruce down in one of the large chairs, Dick headed toward the cockpit. He stopped as he watched the cockpit door swing open.  
  
Dick stepped backwards, inhaling his breath quickly. This he hadn't prepared for. "Bane!" he growled.  
  
Bruce and Tim turned their attention forward. Bruce's eyes glared at the man responsible for his imprisonment.  
  
"It did not take as long for you to escape Pena Duro as it did for you to escape your American prison. Very good," Bane said.  
  
"American prison?" Bruce asked as he turned to face Tim.  
  
"It's a long story. Really. Long story."  
  
Dick glared at Bane. He remembered everything Bane had put them through. The excruciating pain of thinking Bruce was dead. The trial and conviction he and Tim had to endure. The months spent in jail, the emotional torture their loved ones suffered worrying about their welfare, their very lives. Having to dig up, what he thought at the time, was Bruce's grave. All the pain Bruce had suffered, the broken leg, near starvation, the Cavidad Obscuro. He hated Bane. He wanted to hurt Bane. But he knew he had to lure him out of the plane before he could fight him. Tim could fly the plane. Tim could take Bruce home. Jumping up, Dick kicked Bane hard in the chest. Yet the large man didn't flinch. Dick flipped backwards landing near the plane's door.  
  
As Bane rushed him, Dick grabbed the handle opening the door. Dick held on, riding the door out as Bane lunged past him, dropping eight feet to the ground below. Dick turned the door loose, jumping to the ground. He took advantage of Bane being down and started attacking the man with a series of kicks and punches. He was succeeding in keeping Bane down.  
  
Tim had ran to the door, watching the events taking place outside.  
  
"Go start the engine, Tim," Bruce ordered.  
  
Without argument, Tim ran to the cockpit to ready the plane for take- off. What he saw upon entering the cockpit caused his heart to sink. Bane had disabled the plane. The cockpit was virtually destroyed. There was no way anyone would be flying that plane anywhere. Hanging his head, he ran back to report to Bruce.  
  
Dick continued to pummel Bane, keeping him on the ground. Suddenly, Dick was attacked by a falcon. His attention went to trying to prevent the bird from injuring him as it attacked his eyes. It was all the advantage Bane needed. Suddenly, he was up and attacking Dick.  
  
Bruce had heard Dick cry out as the falcon first attacked him. He had Tim move him to the door. Bruce saw the villain known as the Bird standing back. He also saw Dick trying to fend off a two-fold attack from Bane and the falcon. "Take out the bird man, Tim. That'll draw the falcon away from Dick. But watch your eyes."  
  
Tim nodded as he flipped down from the plane. Running, he leapt into the air, his feet connecting with the Bird's jaw. The falcon turned to protect it's master. Tim threw a bola perfectly, bringing down the falcon. Turning, he saw that Bane had Dick in a bear hug. He was trying to squeeze the life from Dick. Tim ran as fast as he could, jumping Bane from behind.  
  
Bruce watched helplessly from the plane. Damn his leg. Damn his boys' exhaustion. Damn Bane for all of this. He looked around the plane, searching desperately for some way to help.  
  
Bane tried to shake Tim off his back as he continued to squeeze Dick. Dick tried to fight, to loosen Bane's grip. He could feel his ribs being crushed to the point that they were about to break. Suddenly, a Batarang hit Bane in the head. The force and the pain caused him to drop Dick as he fell backwards.  
  
Tim jumped to the ground and scrambled around Bane to Dick's side. "You okay, bro?"  
  
"For now. But I don't know if I can go round two," Dick stated through labored breath, as his hand went to his throbbing head.  
  
Tim felt his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Bane rise and start for them. He knew he wasn't strong enough to fight him. "Then what are we going to do?" Tim asked, uncertainty in his voice.  
  
Bruce watched helplessly from the plane's door. The batarang he used was the only weapon he had found. Bane had stripped the plane of almost every useful object. "Bane!" he shouted, although his voice was still raw and hoarse. "You want me, take me!"  
  
Bane looked up at Bruce and laughed. Then he headed toward Dick and Tim.  
  
Tim's eyes darted from Dick to Bane and back again.  
  
"I think we gotta know when to say 'uncle'."  
  
  
  
TO BE CONCLUDED .... 


	20. A Different Game: Part 5d

A Different Game: 5d:  
  
  
  
Bruce watched as Bane loomed over Dick and Tim. Gritting his teeth, Bruce looked around the airplane, searching for something -- anything -- he could find to stop Bane. The batarang had only stopped Bane for the moment. If only he could walk on his own. But he was too weak, and Tim was too young, and Dick was too exhausted. Bruce remembered how Bane had broken him in his exhaustion. This was worse, because he was helpless to do anything other than watch Bane do the same thing to his son.  
  
"I think we gotta know when to say 'uncle'."  
  
Tim looked at Dick wide-eyed. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Uncle! You're giving up? Dick, we can't give up now! Not after everything!"  
  
"Who said we're giving up?" Dick replied with a wink. "I think we ought to tag team for a while."  
  
With his hands palm down on the ground, Dick pushed his body upward, both feet forcefully connecting with Bane's chest. Tim lunged at Bane's legs, kicking the larger man in the shins. Flipping up from the connection, Dick landed in front of Bane. His ribs burned with pain, but he had to continue the fight. Quickly he started his attack again. They had to work together to succeed. Tim continued attacking Bane's legs, like a logger trying to take down a massive oak. Bruce watched as his protÃ©gÃ©s worked together like a well oiled machine. They were preventing Bane from having any contact with either of them. Yet, Bruce worried how long they could keep it up.  
  
Bane grabbed Tim by the scruff of the neck, choking the boy as he lifted him off the ground. Dick threw himself against Bane's harm, loosening his grip on Tim. Together, Dick and Tim rolled to safety. But it was only a momentary refuge as Bane quickly turned and started for them. Looking up at Bane as he approached them, a wide grin formed on Dick's face. "Told you no giving up bro. Bane's going down."  
  
Tim smiled.  
  
Bane stared at them. "And are you going to take me down?"  
  
"Under different circumstances, but I think I'll sit this one out. Why don't you turn around," Dick said as a wide grin formed on his face.  
  
"You are a fool to think I would fall for that," Bane began when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Cautiously, he turned.  
  
"My 'nephew' called," Superman said as he punched Bane. Bane fell against the plane. Shaking off the punch, he lunged at Superman.  
  
Clutching his sore ribs, Dick stood up. Tim followed, trying to help him. "Let's get in the plane, out of the way. He'll take care of things," Dick said with a wide grin as he watched Superman battling with Bane. Moving to the door of the plane, Dick smiled at Bruce, "Thanks for the help."  
  
"Always happy to. Wish I could've done more."  
  
"So do I. I really would like to --"  
  
"We all would, Dick," Tim added, "but we can enjoy the show."  
  
It was apparent with each hit that Superman was amplifying his strength, gauging his opponent's tolerance levels. Superman uppercut Bane with a powerful blow. The blow sent Bane flying backwards through the air. The trees in the distance stopped his flight. Bane hit the ground -- hard. Rolling to his knees, Bane struggled to stand, only to fall over backwards, unconscious.  
  
"Thanks for coming," Dick said to Superman as he moved closer to the plane.  
  
"Glad to help. I'm also glad that Barbara and I knew what you meant when you said 'uncle'," Superman replied.  
  
"Uncle?" Bruce growled low as he shook his head, "I am an only child."  
  
Dick rolled his eyes at Bruce as he continued talking to Superman. "I'm glad the comm link was still working. I heard it crackle in my ear and then I couldn't hear anything else, didn't know if you got the message."  
  
"Received it loud and clear," Superman said as he floated up eye level with Bruce. "And you have no idea how good it is to see you. We've all thought you were dead."  
  
"Part of this 'long story' I keep hearing about?"  
  
"Yes. Your boys have a lot to tell you."  
  
"I'm beginning to see that," Bruce replied as he watched Dick and Tim jump up into the plane.  
  
"Oh," Tim started, "Bane disabled the plane. I think we'll need a lift Superman."  
  
Superman smiled at the young Robin. "That can be arranged, unless Bruce wants to walk back to Gotham," he said as he watched Bruce grimace at the suggestion. Superman smiled, it was good to have things back to normal. "First let me deposit Bane and his associate at the local prison and we'll be on our way back to Gotham."  
  
"Um ... they no longer have a gate," Dick said sheepishly.  
  
"I'll see what I can do about that," Superman said as he flew off, picking up Bane and the Bird on his way.  
  
Pulling the plane door shut, Dick and Tim picked Bruce up and helped him into a chair. They set him down in the chair and made sure he was comfortable, then sat across from him. A wide grin grew on Dick's face.  
  
"What's that about?" Bruce asked stoically.  
  
"Just happy to see you."  
  
"What did Bane mean about you two escaping from an American prison? And don't tell me long story, we have time."  
  
Dick and Tim looked at each other, then Dick began. "Okay, the short version is, we all thought you were dead. GCPD thought you were dead. Tim and I were arrested for your murder, tried convicted, sentenced to death, escaped --"  
  
"YOU were sentenced to death! I got life, the jury liked me better," Tim added.  
  
"Whatever," Dick replied in a light tone.  
  
Bruce looked at them. He couldn't be hearing what they were saying, he must not be comprehending them. "There is no way that a murder trial's been held in just the few months since I've been missing."  
  
"Yes it was. We ... well ... we pushed for it to be fast. I guess maybe we shouldn't have done that. But Bruce, Dick and me, we couldn't just sit in jail ... not for a year or more which is what our lawyers were talking about. Beside, we needed to be out looking for you," Tim said almost defensively.  
  
"So," Dick started again, "we pushed for a speedy trial and we got it. I was so sure we'd be acquitted because I knew we were innocent. No one else seemed to see that though."  
  
Bruce rubbed his throat as he listened to the boys telling him of their ordeal. "Tim, some water please," he asked. As Tim got up and hurriedly went to the on board refrigerator for a bottle of water, Bruce reached across and took Dick's hand. "I can't believe you were convicted? Both of you? Tim's a juvenile -- "  
  
Dick sighed, "That's when we broke out. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't be able to protect him. I had to do something. I know I took a chance with our identities doing that Bruce, but we had no other choice --"  
  
"Dick," Bruce said forcefully, "don't apologize to me about what you did. Our identities are not worth your lives. What you've been through, that's my fault. I should've been able to stop Bane when they came to the manor after me."  
  
"We're not the only ones who've had a rough time. I don't even want to think about what you've been through," Dick said as Tim handed Bruce a bottle of water and sat down beside Dick.  
  
"It was ... unpleasant," Bruce said as he turned away from them. The memories of what he had been through, the pain, the loneliness, the hunger, the hopelessness all washing over him. Without looking at them, he began. "I should have been able to stop Bane. He came into the manor through the cave entrance, I wasn't in the study at the time. When I came back in, I knew something was wrong, but I was hit with a dart before I saw him."  
  
"A dart? Drugs?" Tim asked.  
  
Bruce nodded. "Very fast acting. I was thrown off my game. Tried to fight Bane and ended up with my leg broken before the drugs rendered me unconscious. Then I ended up in Pena Duro. Unpleasant."  
  
"Yeah, we know unpleasant. We'll swap stories on the flight back to Gotham."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Barbara Gordon entered her living room. The smile on her face was huge. "They're on their way home!" she announced to family and friends, "And they're all alright."  
  
Alfred and Leslie hugged each other, tears falling from their eyes. They had feared this day would never come.  
  
"Were are we meeting 'em?" Roy asked.  
  
"They said the Manor."  
  
"Then I'm dealing with the good detective," Roy said as he headed toward the door.  
  
"Roy!" Dinah yelled as she and Wally started after him. "What are you planning?"  
  
"Nothing. Much. I'll meet you all around the corner. Go on," Roy replied as he winked at Babs. She smiled back at him.  
  
Walking out into the street, Roy stretched and started down the sidewalk as if he was taking a stroll. As he neared Jacobs's' car, he nonchalantly let two bat-razors fly. His aim, as always, was perfect. They punctured the tires exactly as planned. Roy kept walking, whistling as he went by. He remembered Barbara telling him them the razors would dissolve on impact. He had to get some of those.  
  
As he rounded the corner, he saw the Hummer waiting for him. Climbing in the front passenger seat, he said, "Worked like a charm, Babs."  
  
"Thought it would," she said with a grin.  
  
"What?" Jim Gordon asked from the back seat.  
  
"Nothing you want to know about Daddy."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
They waited impatiently as Superman landed the Batwing on Wayne Manor's back lawn. Dick and Tim jumped down from the plane's open door and ran toward their family and friends who stood on the verandah. Superman entered the plane and retrieved Bruce, flying him to the others. Alfred could see Bruce was uncomfortable with the traveling arrangements when Superman landed in front of them and gently helped Bruce to stand.  
  
Alfred walked over and embraced Bruce. "It's so very good to see you young sir."  
  
"And you too," Bruce said, his voice cracking slightly.  
  
"But you look a fright, young man. You will have to be thoroughly cleaned."  
  
Leslie moved quickly to Bruce, and gave him a cursory examination. "Clark, please take Bruce down to the medical facility in the cave."  
  
Bruce looked at everyone who was there to greet him. Then his eyes fell on Jim Gordon. Jim was here. And Leslie had just told Superman who she called 'Clark' to take him to the Cave.  
  
Jim saw Bruce staring at him and moved closer to his old friend. "It's good to have you back, partner. The Gotham nights haven't been the same without you." He squeezed his friend's hand reassuringly.  
  
He watched Stephanie and Cassandra pulling Tim between them, watched Barbara's passionate embrace of Dick. Identities were known, but the world hadn't ended. There were a lot of changes that Bruce was going to have to get used to.  
  
Clark started to take Bruce inside when Bruce looked back at Dick, "Remember what I told you boys, go make those phone calls, we have a lot of things to fix."  
  
"Yes sir," Dick and Tim answered as they followed the crowd into the house. After a few well deserved hugs, they waited as everyone else went down into the cave, waited until they were in the study alone. They both anxiously picked up the phone in the opposite end of the room with different outside line. Dick had taken the phone by Bruce's desk and Tim had taken the one by the sofa. They both dialed numbers they now knew by heart. As they waited for the other end to pick up was through, Dick and Tim looked at each other. Dick fidgeted with the antique phone cord just as his line was answered.  
  
"Hey, it's Dick ... yeah ... in Gotham ... we need to meet."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Dick paced around Jon Walters' office as Tim sat on the sofa nervously tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa. Sitting in a chair, his leg propped on a plush ottoman, Bruce watched the boys' expression of their anxiety. Clark stood looking out the window.  
  
Jon Walters answered the intercom's call, "Yes?"  
  
"Mr. Reynolds and Detective Jacobs are here," the assistant's voice chimed over the intercom.  
  
"Jacobs! What the hell is he doing here?" Dick asked angrily.  
  
"It's his case. I'm sure Peter called him and said we wanted to meet about it. Dick, it will be alright," Walters said. Then pushing the button, he calmly said, "Send them in."  
  
"Dick, sit down," Bruce said. "Clark, could you help me into Jon's lounge area for a moment?"  
  
"I'll get you whatever you -- " Clark started to say as Dick and Tim stared at Bruce.  
  
"Please just help me in there," he replied stoically. Clark moved quickly to Bruce and assisted him into the connected lounge area.  
  
Dick watched as Bruce and Clark disappeared behind the door. Dick turned back toward Tim who shrugged. Their attention turned to the door as they heard a knock on it. They watched Walters cross the room and open the door. Dick stood up and Tim followed suit.  
  
"Peter, thank you for coming. Wilson and I needed to discuss the Grayson/Drake case with you."  
  
"Do you have any information on your client's whereabouts?" Jacobs asked in an accusatory tone as he brushed past Walters into the office. As he turned to his left, he saw Dick and Tim standing there. A scowl formed on his face as he quickly pulled his gun, pointing it at them.  
  
Tim looked to Dick who turned his attention from Jacobs to Tim. Their breathing was rapid.  
  
"There's no need for that, Detective," Wilson Avery stated.  
  
"They're wanted fugitives, convicted killers, there's a need," Jacobs replied. Taking his free hand, he pulled out his handcuffs and tossed them toward Dick, "Catch Grayson."  
  
Dick easily caught the handcuffs. "What am I suppose to do with these?"  
  
"You used to be a cop, you know how to use them, your left wrist to Drake's right. NOW!"  
  
"Detective -- " Walters started.  
  
"Now Grayson."  
  
Dick turned his eyes toward the lounge door, then with a sigh, complied with Jacobs order.  
  
"Peter," Jon Walters said forcefully, "we called you here to talk about this case. Call Jacobs off and sit down. There have been some new developments that you need to know about. Boys, sit down."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm taking them to Blackgate," Jacobs said.  
  
"I have to agree with the detective, Jon, Wilson. I'm sorry, but I don't know what's to discuss in this case."  
  
"Perhaps I could change your mind Peter," Bruce said as he stepped up in the doorway connecting the lounge with the office. Clark stood behind Bruce and then assisted him to one of the chairs.  
  
Peter Reynolds couldn't believe his eyes. The man was dead. At least, he was suppose to be. Yet, standing here before him was Bruce Wayne. "Bruce ... I ... You ... you're --"  
  
"Alive. Yes."  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
"I was kidnapped. Some enemies of Wayne Enterprises who wanted to stop our expansion into South America felt that by kidnapping me and faking my death, that they could stop the expansion into that area. It was a ... terrible ordeal. I ... I don't like to discuss it," Bruce said lowering his eyes and looking away.  
  
Dick and Tim faced each other and smiled. Bruce could always be counted on to give a good performance.  
  
"But you can read about it in my exclusive article running in today's afternoon edition of the Daily Planet and the Gotham Gazette," Clark added.  
  
"Peter, since, as you can see, I am very much alive, what do we need to do to clear my son and our friend? How do we get them released?" Bruce asked calmly  
  
"They're not being released!" Jacobs yelled as he advanced toward his prisoners.  
  
Dick's looked to Bruce, confusion on his face, "What's he talking about?"  
  
Walters looked at Jacobs, "I think even you can see that they aren't guilty of murder."  
  
"Murder's the only thing they aren't guilty of," Jacobs started as he looked at the District Attorney. "Peter, you know the things we found out about them. They aren't boy scouts. Grayson's not an innocent victim here. We know about his prior assaults on Wayne, he admitted that he and Drake were committing illegal acts in Bludhaven. We can only imagine what they were! That's enough to hold the contributing to delinquency charge! They forged Drake's father's signature on multiple school documents. A school Drake was sent to because he was a problem child, because he was becoming a delinquent. Who knows what all Grayson was into when he was living in New York, but no one spends thirty million dollars in three years legitimately. And what was Drake planning to do with that gun he had on his campus? That's a felony! I'd bet my paycheck Grayson got him the gun. And let's not forget about the felony escape and FOUR counts of assault on law enforcement officers --"  
  
"I could make it five!" Dick growled as he stood up, dragging Tim up with him, and got into Jacobs's face.  
  
"Richard, sit down!" Bruce ordered. He watched as Dick looked imploringly at him, then watched as Dick and Tim sat back down on the sofa before he continued. "Peter, I'm sure we can work something out. If the officers were injured, I will gladly pay for their medical bills or any compensation you think is reasonable. Perhaps the boys did wrong in what they did, but can't you understand why they acted as they did? Imagine being twenty four years old and being sentenced to death for a crime you KNOW you didn't commit. Or being sixteen years old and told you were going to have to spend the rest of your life in Blackgate prison. How would you feel? I'd wager you'd feel scared, and intimidated, and confused. Was their escape a worse offense against justice than their convictions for a crime that hadn't even occurred?"  
  
"Bruce --"  
  
"Peter, I supported you because I thought we both had the same vision of justice. Don't prove to me that I was wrong."  
  
"Reynolds are you going to let Wayne buy them out of this? They assaulted law enforcement officers!"  
  
Bruce glared at Jacobs, "Haven't Dick and Tim been punished enough?" he said, his voice becoming The Voice. "Peter, you wanted to kill my son! You wanted to kill Tim! He's a sixteen year old boy! They have spent months in jail. They have been punished enough for whatever you and Detective Jacobs pushed them into doing."  
  
Peter Reynolds sat thoughtfully. He listened to Bruce's impassioned plea. He though of his duty as a prosecutor. It wasn't to gain convictions, it was to seek justice. Grayson and Drake were guilty of escape and assault. But would pursuing that, given everything, be pursuing justice? He turned and looked at Dick and Tim, sitting handcuffed on the sofa. Saw the anxiety on their young faces. Then he turned toward the boy's attorneys. "Jon, see if you can find Judge Vargas, I'll join you in a motion to set aside the jury's verdict."  
  
"And the new charges?" Wilson asked.  
  
"I'll dismiss them."  
  
"You can't do that!" Jacobs yelled as he moved toward Reynolds. "You're letting Wayne buy then out of this!"  
  
"Detective, release them from the handcuffs," Reynolds ordered.  
  
"Not until the judge orders me too. Technically, they're still custody."  
  
"What is your problem?" Dick asked angrily. "It's not like we're NOT going to go to court. We want to go. Why are treating us like this? Tim and I have never done anything to you."  
  
"You're both spoiled rich brats. Your fathers buy you out of whatever you do. Well, not this time --"  
  
"Do! We hadn't done anything until you went tunnel vision on us. You decided Bruce was murdered and we did it. And you didn't look for any other option. If you had done your job, my father may not have been held prisoner as long as he was. I'm just a 'rookie' but I did a better job than you did, 'Detective'," Dick snarled.  
  
Jim Gordon had walked over and placed a hand on Dick's shoulders. "Now, Dick, you and I are both cops, just like Jacobs. We know he's technically right about you being in custody. He just likes to do everything 'by the book'. I'm sure that the new commissioner will be happy to hear about that when I meet with him this afternoon."  
  
Jacobs glared at them as he snatched Dick and Tim's wrists and removed the handcuffs. "Do whatever you want to," he said as he stormed out of the office.  
  
"Does this mean I can go home now?" Tim asked. "I just want to go home now."  
  
"I don't see a need for anyone but the attorneys to go to Court," Reynolds said.  
  
"Then Dick and I will take Tim home. I know he wants to tell his father the good news himself. Clark, please go to Wayne Enterprises and get things ready for my press conference."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Tentatively, Tim walked into the dining room of his home. He felt like a stranger. It had been so long since he had been here. As he stood in the doorway, he saw his father and Dana sitting at the table. They hadn't seen him. His father looked older than he remembered. Quietly, he called out, "Dad."  
  
Jack Drake turned toward the door. His eyes grew wide as he saw his son, the son he had thought he would never see again. Jack rose from the table and quickly crossed the room, pulling Tim into a tight hug. "Oh my God! Are you really here?" he asked. Lifting the boys face so he could look him in the eyes, he continued, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah Dad, I am," Tim replied with a smile.  
  
Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "The police have been watching the house. Here's five hundred dollars, Tim. Take the car and go Tim. Go to California or Canada, just --"  
  
"But Dad -- "  
  
"Tim, please. You have to leave! Before they find you here."  
  
"No Dad! No, I don't. It's over. The charges against Dick and me have been dropped. It's all over."  
  
"What?" Jack asked incredulously. Then he saw Dick Grayson standing in the doorway, Bruce Wayne at his side. "Wayne?"  
  
"Hello Jack," Bruce said as he leaned against his crutches.  
  
"You're alive! How?"  
  
"It's a long story, Jack. I was kidnapped. But Tim's right. It's all over now. We just left a meeting with the attorneys and District Attorney. The charges have been dismissed and the convictions purged."  
  
Jack pulled his son into a tight hug as tears fell from his eyes. Dana moved over to her husband and stepson, joining them in their embrace.  
  
Bruce placed his hand on Dick's shoulders as they watched the scene before them. Dick smiled at Bruce, who smiled back at him.  
  
"Tim, you're really all right?" Jack asked, stunned at the new revelation.  
  
"Yes Dad," Tim replied, as his eyes glistened with moisture.  
  
Jack turned toward the pair standing in the doorway. He walked over to them. "I'm glad you're fine Bruce. I'm glad everything has worked out, for all of us. But I'd like to ask you and your son to leave now. I don't want you coming back." Then turning to look directly at Dick, he continued, "And I don't want you to EVER come around my son again. Do you understand me?"  
  
Bruce shifted so he was between Jack and Dick. He saw Tim's mouth drop at the scene unfolding before him. "Jack, I think we can talk about this. Tim is very important to both Dick and I."  
  
"As I found out, during my son's trial. You people have forged my name on school documents. You take my son to God only knows where doing God only knows what. I still have not had a satisfactory explanation for why your twenty four year old son is hanging out with Tim. He's only sixteen years old. And you," Jack said pointing at Dick as his voice raised, "you talked my son into escaping. He could have been killed!"  
  
"Dad," Tim interjected. "Stop! Stop this now!" Dana placed comforting hands on the boy's now tightened shoulders.  
  
"Go to your room Tim."  
  
"No, I'm not going anywhere. Dad, you don't understand. You don't understand Dick and my relationship. He's the only bother I have. I'm not letting you take him away from me."  
  
"He admitted on the stand that he had you into something illegal that night in Bludhaven. I haven't asked what. Didn't want to know what. Can you tell me now? Will you tell me?"  
  
Tim looked from his father to Dick and then Bruce. Damn their secrets. He didn't know what to do. He saw a look pass between Dick and Bruce. One he didn't understand. Quietly Bruce said to him, "If you want, you can tell him."  
  
"What?" Tim asked disbelieving.  
  
"I think it's time," Bruce replied.  
  
Jack faced Tim and waited as Tim looked at Bruce. "Are you sure?"  
  
"It's your decision. I won't make that mistake again. But if you want to, if you feel you need to, then let's discuss it while we're all present."  
  
Tim took a deep breath. "Dad, what Dick and I were doing was, technically, illegal. But it wasn't bad, it was good. We were protecting people, helping people. We do that a lot. Bruce, Dick and me. That's why I leave like I do, the things you haven't understood. I know you think I've been into a lot of delinquent stuff, but that's because I haven't been able to tell you, to share with you. But I can now. I can tell you who I am."  
  
"Who you are? Tim, I don't --"  
  
"I'm Robin," Tim said resolved.  
  
"Robin who, honey?" Dana asked.  
  
"Robin. The Robin. As in 'Batman and --', that Robin."  
  
"Tim!" Jack said exasperated at his son's games.  
  
"It's true Jack. Tim is Robin. He has been for years now. He's my partner," Bruce said.  
  
"Partner?" Jack asked incredulously.  
  
Dick slightly moved forward and proclaimed, "He's Batman, I'm Nightwing."  
  
Jack studied them, the three of them, their faces. "You're telling me the truth. Oh my God! And you think this makes this better. This is worse than I ever imagined!" Dick moved to Tim as Jack faced off against Bruce. "How dare you endanger my son's life. If it wasn't irresponsible enough for you to do it with your own son, you're now doing it with mine. Are you insane?"  
  
"No, Jack. Perhaps I didn't have the right to use Tim. But he wanted this, needed this -- "  
  
"Tim is a child. Bruce, children often want things that aren't always good for them. It doesn't mean you give in to their whims. As an 'adult', you do what's best for them. Is that how Jason really died? As Robin? It's obvious that you know nothing of being a parent."  
  
"And you do?" Tim screamed as Dick placed his hands on Tim, trying to calm him. "You and Mom used to leave me all the time. Couldn't be bothered with me. I figured out the secret of Batman and Robin. I tracked Dick down in New York. I convinced them I could be Robin. Me! I did all that! You weren't even around to know I wasn't here.  
  
"I'm Robin because I'm good at what I do. Bruce and Dick have given me the best training imaginable. And ... I make a difference. Bruce didn't have the right to 'drag me into this' anymore than you have the right to stop me or keep me from it. This is my life. I choose how I live it! I love you Dad, but Bruce and Dick are my family too. Bruce has been there when I needed, but didn't have a father. And I can't even begin to say what Dick means to me.  
  
"I love you for wanting to be closer to me now. But, you've got to accept me as who I am now, not who I was years ago. I AM ROBIN! No one's changing that."  
  
Jack and Dana had watched Tim as he had released all his pent up emotions. Coldly, Jack replied, "I can call the police. Tell them about all of you."  
  
"Yes you could, Mr. Drake," Dick added calmly. "Immediately after you make that call, the police would be dispatched here. Thirty minutes later, Bruce, Tim and I are arrested. Then Tim would be right back in jail, and I don't think you want that. In fact, I know you don't. Jail's not the only thing to worry about too, if our secret becomes common knowledge. We've got enemies. A lot of enemies. They'd be looking to get even with us, and with our loved ones. Mr. Drake, I know how much you care about your son. I've seen it. But you have to trust him. We know what we're doing. Tim knows what he's doing."  
  
"He's right, darling," Dana added. "Trust Tim. He's telling you this because he trusts you. You have to trust him back."  
  
"I don't have to like this."  
  
"No, but you have to accept it," she added as she took his hand in hers. "He's a hero Jack. I think it's something to be proud of."  
  
"I just don't want him hurt," Jack said resigned.  
  
"Dad, I know that," Tim said as walked over to his father, embracing him.  
  
"We ... we need to get you back in school," Jack said weakly.  
  
"I'm not going back to school. Not this year. Not Brentwood."  
  
"Well, Gotham Heights then. I see Brentwood's not really needed -- "  
  
"NO! I'm not going back to school this year. Alfred can home school me, but I'm not going. I'm not listening to people whisper about me. Not right now."  
  
"Well ... we'll discuss it later, okay. But no Brentwood. We're in agreement on that," Jack said without reservation as he pulled Tim into a tight hug. "We'll work everything out Tim, together."  
  
Tim smiled as he held onto his father. It felt good to finally be home.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
"What press conference?" Lucius asked as he marched into what had been Bruce Wayne's office. He saw Clark Kent hanging up the phone. "Kent, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Getting ready for the press conference."  
  
"Who's giving a press conference?"  
  
"I am," Bruce said as he walked into the office, leaning on his crutches.  
  
Lucius' eyes grew wide with astonishment. "Bruce. I don't believe it. You're ..."  
  
"Yes, I am. Clark, I'd like to speak to Lucius alone for a moment, please," Bruce said. Clark walked out of the office leaving the two men alone. "I'm having the conference to announce I'm back. Announce Dick and Tim have been cleared of all charges." Bruce moved to his desk and sat in his chair, putting his leg up on the ottoman.  
  
"I'm shocked. I can't believe this. This is wonderful Bruce. Where have you been? What happened? I have a million questions."  
  
"I'm sure you do, but I want to talk to you about something else. About Dick."  
  
"I suppose Dick told you about my testimony," Lucius stated.  
  
"Yes he did," Bruce said reticently.  
  
"I ... I'm very happy to see you alive Bruce. You have no idea how much it hurt, thinking you were dead. But I can understand, we're talking about your son. I'll leave you some recommendations for my successor."  
  
"Your suc -- no Lucius. I don't want you to resign. I've apologized to Dick, and now I have to apologize to you. Everything you said. Everything you thought. It was my fault. I didn't realize how what I did say, and what I didn't say, made Dick seem to you. I made many mistakes. The way I mishandled the relationship allowed the prosecution to use things against Dick that were never his fault. That's another reason for the press conference. To try and repair his reputation. I have to explain the money he spent in New York helping the Titans. To explain things he couldn't or wouldn't explain out of deference to me."  
  
"Thank you Bruce. But, don't blame yourself. I honestly thought the things I said. Perhaps I had legitimate concerns about what I saw in Dick's behavior, but I should have come to you about it rather than jumping to conclusions. Conclusions that could have gotten your son killed. I can only imagine how Dick feels. How he must have felt hearing me testify against him, and ... and what I said at the 'funeral'. I have to apologize to him Bruce, but I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again."  
  
"He's hurt, Lucius. I won't deny that. It will take time."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Amy Rorhbach sat at her desk treading through reports she had to file before her shift ended. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear his approach until a bouquet of flowers were lain on her reports. Startled, she looked up in to the blue eyes of her former partner, Dick Grayson.  
  
"Rookie, what are you doing here? Are you crazy?"  
  
"Been too overworked to watch the news today?" Dick asked with a wide grin. He pointed behind him to the TV that was showing Bruce's press conference.  
  
"Isn't that --"  
  
"Yep. He's alive and I'm cleared." She leapt up and hugged him. "Woah, Sarge, what's your hubby gonna think?"  
  
"Grayson, I knew you were innocent."  
  
"Yeah, I know. You were one of the few. Thanks. That's why you get flowers."  
  
"What's your girlfriend gonna think?" she replied with a wink. "Although I should slug you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Not calling me to help you out. I'm your partner. That's what partners do, Rookie. Not sometimes, not occasionally. Being partners is a twenty-four seven deal. Understand?"  
  
"Yes ma'am," Dick said giving a mock salute. "You helped me out when Tim and I really needed you too. If not for you, I'd be on death row right now."  
  
"Don't remind me. That was just sheer luck. Had you called, perhaps none of that would've happened. I know one thing, you are never going to be any good in the undercover department."  
  
"Well, I'll remember that in the future. Right now, I have to go speak with Mason Arnot."  
  
"Arnot's a jackass," Amy said reserved.  
  
"Yeah, but he's the jackass who decides if I get to be your rookie again," Dick said as he sat on the edge of the desk.  
  
"No he isn't, Addad's --"  
  
"With me Amy, it's Arnot, whether I like it or not."  
  
Amy looked at him as she sat back down in her chair, "I'm not sure why you want to come back to this hellhole, but whether you do or not, you'll always be my rookie. But listen, don't give Arnot anything. If you do, he'll never let you alone. No matter what he dangles or wants you to say - don't do it. Just... just be careful and remember, I've got your back."  
  
"Thanks, Sarge, I'll be careful. And if Arnot gives me problems, he'll be talking to my dad. Believe me -- no one wants to be on my dad's bad side."  
  
"Seriously, even if you win this round, don't turn your back to Arnot, he's a sneaky little worm. He'll be watching you and waiting for an opportunity. And I don't want to get my Rookie back in a baggie."  
  
"Well, I certainly don't want to come back in a baggie and I think the lions have had enough fun with me lately. Guess, I'd better suck it up and go in, I see Arnot by his door."  
  
"Good luck and call me and let me know what happens."  
  
"You'll be the first to know partner," Dick said with a smile as he headed toward Arnot's office.  
  
"Sport, I didn't think I'd be seeing you here. Heard about your good fortune on the tube."  
  
"Thanks Mac, can I see you?"  
  
"Sure, come on in." Arnot said with a wily smile. "What can I do for you, Dick?"  
  
"I want my job back."  
  
"No can do, Sport. You knew the rules. Get arrested during your probationary period and you're outta here."  
  
"The convictions have been overturned. Purged."  
  
"Doesn't matter, Grayson. Even IF we let you slide on that, look at how long it's been since you came to work. And you haven't even called in."  
  
Dick felt his anger fuming, "I was in JAIL. I couldn't exactly call. Listen Mason, I'm gonna tell you something and I'm gonna say it once. I want my job back. And if I don't get my job back, my father is going to come down on you AND the city of Bludhaven. Hard. Bruce Wayne'll drop a lawsuit on this department and he'll do it in Gotham where the judges are his, not yours. You want to use an arrest for a crime that never happened against me, the press'll have a field day with the BPD's inspector's criminal record. Believe me, a lot of publicity is NOT a good thing."  
  
"Well, if you put it that way, Sport. Welcome back."  
  
"Thanks. Oh, I know, you're watching me. Fine."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Nightwing and Robin knocked on Barbara Gordon's patio door. Barbara hit a button opening the doors automatically. "Babs," Nightwing called out as they moved towards Oracle's control room.  
  
"In here," she called. As they walked in they could see Bruce on the view screen. "He's already trying to get my job," she said pointing at him.  
  
"Bruce, play nice and share the work with Babs," Nightwing said with a grin as he leaned over and kissed Barbara on the lips. "Babe, don't worry. Leslie said he'd be outta commission for a year with that leg. But I know him, I'm taking bets but my money's on four months."  
  
"Smart alec," Bruce grumbled over the comm link.  
  
"Got us some work to do Babs? I'm so ready to get back out there," Robin said with a smile.  
  
"Let me check a few things," she said as started clicking keys on her computer. Her eyebrow arched when something unexpected caught her eye. "Short Pants, you want to tell me why there's a REAL warrant for Robbie Malone's arrest in the system?"  
  
"A WHAT?" Nightwing said as he and Robin looked over Barbara's shoulder.  
  
"For failing to appear in court for a window tint violation?" she continued reading from the screen.  
  
"Aw damn," Dick said, rubbing his hand through his hair, as Tim started laughing at him, "I forgot all about that."  
  
"I'll have it taken care of," Bruce said reassuringly. "Looks like there's a break-in on Moenech, head out."  
  
"You got it boss," Robin said as he and Nightwing went to Bab's patio and shot their jump lines out into the night.  
  
Barbara smiled as she heard their joyful shouts flying over their city once more.  
  
  
  
FINIS .... for now  
  
  
  
*** AUTHOR'S NOTE***  
  
If you want more on Tim and his Dad's reaction -- make you you check out part 3 of "A Different Game:The Sidelines" on the YJ section of fanfic.net 


End file.
